Sentimental Hearts
by Inkfire
Summary: With the ashes and pieces she has left, Narcissa Black tries to build a world again. Sequel to Dustland Fairytale.
1. Tranquilize

**So here's the sequel to Dustland Fairytale – hope it doesn't disappoint! In case I get some new readers, here's what you need to know to get it all: the story's starting right after Andromeda left the family, and the OC named Cassandra Burke used to be Cissy's best friend, but the Burke sisters were close to Meda and Cissy alike, and foresaw Meda's departure but kept the secret, which is why Narcissa resents Cassie. The rest should be pretty much self-explanatory, I'll put reminders of Dustland background details as I go on, if needed =)**

**Named after this part from the song "Sam's Town" (by The Killers, to stick with tradition...):**

**"I've got this energy beneath my feet**

**Like something underground's gonna come up and carry me **

**I've got this sentimental heart that beats **

**But I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me now..."**

**And yes, yes, yes, the chapter title, Tranquilize, is ALSO from The Killers – though that will only show once I actually have a chapter two posted ^_^**

* * *

><p>A little girl spun and twirled on the spot, her hair flying around her face, laughing wildly. Her siblings giggled and hugged her, and their parents beamed at the scene, talking loudly.<p>

Probably Mudbloods, from the look of it.

Narcissa Black turned her head away, trying to gather her thoughts against the distraction. "Have a pleasant year, my dear," said her mother's voice, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Live up to your family name and make us proud, as always."

"I shall, Mother," she replied, and reached out for the customary goodbye hug. It lasted exactly two seconds, that is a few seconds less than usual. She'd make do with that for the entire year, Cissy supposed, turning towards her father, who rapidly kissed her cheek, without adding a word – taken off guard, she nearly gasped. He met her gaze as he straightened up, and she drew from it, at least, a modicum of warmth. Then his hand found Druella's, and with one last nod at their daughter, they were off.

Her parents, holding hands. The oddity left Narcissa blinking on the spot for a little while, before she gathered herself and turned away, seizing her trunk firmly. Well, this was probably some kind of record, she thought as she heaved her luggage onto the train. Shortest goodbyes ever, that was it. Cissy chewed on her lip and endeavoured to control her train of thought. It wouldn't do to dwell on the obvious reasons for this saddening fact. And, well – she'd had goodbyes from her sister as well, after all. Bella was busy, she preferred not coming to see her off – that was understandable. But she'd said she'd write. Said she'd visit, even... that possibility had previously been unheard of...

Still contemplating, Narcissa settled in an empty compartment, abandoning her trunk in a corner with a huff of relief. She huddled into a seat in the corner, pulling her legs close to her body and resting her temple against the cool glass of the window, yet not gazing outside. Things were going fine – and they still would while at the castle. She could do this. If she could just... take a breath, not think too much, and remember who she was.

A few minutes later, the sound of her compartment door opening startled her out of her drowsiness.

"Hello, Black," he said, "I thought you could use a distraction there."

Narcissa raised her head and blinked slowly at the newcomer, quite taken aback. The boy was certainly familiar – it was a Slytherin of her year, called Travers. While not a young pureblood from high society, he was still quite acceptable company, and good friends with Virgil Greengrass. However, the two of them had never paid much attention to one another before. She was about to tell him that she was quite all right, thank him for his concern and send him on his way, and then she took a proper look at him – cool, confident eyes, long nose and messy hair, a slightly mocking smirk, and yet, somehow, somewhere, a foreign, unsettling warmth – and paused, hovering. Why the hell not, actually – she wasn't specifically eager to meet with the girls of her year again, but it would certainly not do to remain on her own, her reputation might suffer from it.

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied after those considerations. "Shall I assume that you're actually looking for a compartment?"

He looked mock-shocked. "Why, you can read me like an open book," he chuckled, "but there are other compartments available, in case you were unaware."

"Then by all means do as you like," she responded graciously, languidly leaning her head against the window again. He set his trunk next to her own and went to sit opposite her.

"My, don't you look quite the picture," he commented. "Are you hoping that a painter will pop up in a few minutes to capture this flattering image, or worrying that an army of fans might surge into the train?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I was attempting to think, Travers, actually – and that in any position I may prefer, if you don't mind."

"Fair enough." He nodded seriously. "I suppose we could name the picture 'Meditating fifteen-year-old flower lounging against a train window'. The masses would swoon."

"You are quite absurd, you know."

"You are quite conceited," he shot back. "I enjoy simple truths. Don't you? They are so blunt, and occasionally beautiful."

She slowly shook her head. "To what do I owe the honour of sharing the blunt beauty of your thoughts, then?" she inquired wryly, trying to conceal her amusement.

He waved a hand dramatically. "Destiny. Boredom. Your own reckless indulgence. Who knows."

She had a small laugh at that. "My indulgence. That sounds more like it."

"Indeed it does, from a conceited point of view."

Narcissa sighed. "If you don't have anything more interesting to bring to my conceited attention, Mr Travers, I'm afraid I'll have to put an end to my indulgence and ask you to leave."

He gasped in fake horror. "You would be so cruel? I must admit I am appalled. Also, just so you know, Black, your getting here first doesn't mean you own the compartment. I am perfectly free to settle wherever I like."

"True. But I can't fathom why you'd be so stubborn as to remain here if coldness was to worsen my naturally conceited attitude. How would that be pleasant?"

"You never know," he responded seriously. "I could be just starting a study on the average pureblooded Slytherin princess, which would grant me easy access to some Ministry hellhole if I happened to fail my OWLs."

She snorted. "A likely story."

"Why, you seem to find me absurd. I could be very thorough in my absurdity. Some people find logic in sheer senselessness. And now you look just like I lost you."

Narcissa found herself laughing. "No, actually, I think I understood your point. Thank you for the credit to my brain."

"Ah, good. A witty blonde. I like."

She stared. "You are as rude as insufferable, you know that?"

"Of course. But I'm counting on the effect of novelty, and your previous boredom, to win you over to my awful character, be it only for the ride. You did laugh, you know. An actual laugh, not the average society-girl, well-mannered and controlled little giggle."

She raised her eyebrows. "My ancestry seems to rouse quite a bit of frustration from you."

He had a short laugh. "No, _Mademoiselle Black_. I'm mocking it now, and it does seem to work as far as holding your interest is concerned, if I may say so myself. But I am not the worst of companies to keep, either. My lineage might not be flawless, but it is certainly magical, and I learned my manners well so I could have the pleasure of disregarding them later." He held her gaze steadily, seeming to defy her and yet to prove a point – to both reassure and fluster her.

"Well – very good," responded Narcissa with all the dignity she could muster, as she was feeling rather unsettled, and clueless as to whatever the boy might want from her.

He laughed softly, his eyes gleaming. "Very good indeed."

There was a beat of an oddly companionable silence at that point. "So, as usual small talk goes," he started again after a few minutes, "do you think you might be one of the lucky few to enter Slug's Club this year?"

"Certainly," Narcissa replied with honesty. The answer had slipped, arrogantly easy, from her lips, but then she bit them hard, the subject bringing to mind the company she would find herself with at the aforementioned's evenings and events... and the unavoidable gossip. "Do you think you might?" she managed, hoping to conceal her confusion.

He smirked. "I might. I made sure Slughorn noticed my abilities a couple of times."

"That's good," she said vaguely.

He nodded, staring steadily at her. "Slughorn respects both blood, and talent... the true Slytherin thing to do if he wants the powerful of the future generations all eating out of his hand." He snorted. "Some head of house we have."

"I suppose," Cissy said, getting a grip again. He had a smile that was both mocking and encouraging, in an odd way. She met his eye, smiled back a tiny smile, and then looked away.

It was at that point that the compartment's door swung open again. Narcissa jumped – once, and then twice as she recognized her former friend, Cassandra Burke.

"Hi, Cissy," Cassie said, meeting her gaze with a serious and solemn look of her own.

"Cassie, I don't want to see you now any more than I did this past summer," she retorted with venom. "Just go away, please."

Cassie shook her head. "We should talk – "

"We talked it out."

"No we didn't, Cissy," she said quietly. Narcissa had looked away from her face, bitter memories making her eyes sear and her stomach churn.

"Cissy, listen!"

"Look, I think she's just been pretty clear," Travers intervened in a clear, loud voice. "You should go now."

Both girls started and stared at him incredulously. "What is it to you?" Cassandra hissed.

"Nothing at all, until you came barging in here and demanded she listen to you when she obviously doesn't want to," he shot back. "I'm only being helpful to you both by suggesting you stop being a nuisance. That kind of behaviour very seldom helps with anything."

Cassie swallowed. "Cissy?" she asked a bit shakily.

"Just go," Narcissa mumbled.

Cassandra turned, and went to the door. From there, she called over her shoulder: "You'll have to talk about it at some point. You can't escape it. It is not only about me." And then she was gone.

Narcissa hissed under her breath, biting her lip hard, hands clenched on her lap and hair concealing her face.

Something brushed and firmly squeezed her knee. She gasped a little, then clamped her mouth shut again. She took a slow, deep breath through her nose, a ringing sound in her head, hammering her brain. She exhaled. The hand was warm. It was real. She clung to the feeling and allowed it to anchor her to the earth, to the here and now, the train racing toward Hogwarts and herself sitting there, Narcissa Black – and Travers.

She leaned back into her seat and drew her legs closer to her chest, carefully clearing her mind of all thought. It was a slow, quiet process until she turned her head and looked at him.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He nodded with a slight bow and a wry grin. "You are quite welcome."

She cracked a smile and let the silence stretch. He didn't break it.

"Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?" he eventually said.

She looked up at his crooked grin. She'd never been really keen on Exploding Snap – her sisters had...

"All right," she said.

* * *

><p>"My, my, looks like everyone is having loads of fun in here."<p>

The voice came half-drowned by a resounding _crack_ and a peal of laughter from Cissy's lips. She quickly withdrew her fingers to avoid getting burned, and turned her head, flushed pink with blond strands flying everywhere against her forehead and cheeks.

Alcyone Nott was leaning against the door of their compartment, all cold smirks and haughty attitude. "Hullo, Narcissa," she said. "I was coming to check up on you, but it looks like you're doing fairly all right."

Cissy swallowed, feeling considerably colder all of a sudden, and rearranged her hair quickly, without thinking. "Hello, Alcyone," she responded. "Yes, I am fine, thank you for your concern."

"Oh, but you are very welcome," Alcyone shot back sweetly. "It is nothing but my duty after all. I made Prefect, you know – you must have wondered whom this year's badges had gone to... Or maybe you had other things on your mind."

"Well, congratulations," she said shortly.

"Thank you. Cadmus is the other one; we have just been doing our first round together. We are getting on extremely well – he is such a gentleman!" Alcyone giggled, then went serious. "Anyway, we ran into your sister on the way."

Narcissa started. "What?"

"She was there, yes, locked alone in a compartment. Oh, maybe you would have expected her to drop her studies now that she's living with the Mudblood? Quite honestly, so did I. Who would want to face everyone, flaunt the filth of her betrayal for the world to see... But no, she's back. Quite the embarrassment for the whole house, frankly. Not to mention _you_, Cissy – I feel so sorry for you. The shame your family has been undergoing recently... Truly dreadful." She sighed wistfully. "My family has never known anything of the sort, thank Merlin, so I can't really relate – but I certainly feel for you, my dear."

Narcissa tried to find a suitable answer, yet her tongue and brain felt equally frozen. Alcyone had a small, unpleasant laugh. "Then again, I am glad you're having company to help let off your steam. No one would want you to go out of control like the last time something of the sort happened. You very nearly clawed my face off – you're quite lucky I have a kind and forgiving nature, truthfully." She eyed Travers with a smirk. "Of course, as far as acquaintances go, only recently you could have done so much better, but... now is not the time to be picky."

She let her words hang a few seconds before turning gracefully on her heel. "Well, I would gladly have stayed a bit longer to converse with you, Cissy, but I have things to be doing. I'll see you at the castle."

The door slammed; Narcissa had not even uttered one word. Travers peered at her. "Are you all right?" he inquired. "You look rather white."

Feebly, she nodded. "Nott's a bitch," he went on. "Well, maybe now she'll start the gossips thinking that we are together – I wouldn't put it past her, she's probably that dumb. It's better than other rumours, no?"

"I guess," she muttered. Still in shock, she looked down at the messy stacks of cards sprawled all around them. Slowly, she started picking them up and putting them in order. He did not comment.

Narcissa looked down at the card on the top of the pile, blankly. The Queen of Hearts, that was right. The figure raised its eyebrows arrogantly at her, and her fingers, seemingly of their own accord, started twisting the little rectangle, pulling viciously at it. With a dreadful tearing sound, the queen's head was severed in two. On one side there was only a tuft of golden hair left of her, while on the other the tiny character was writhing and screeching without sound. Fitting. Cissy bit back a fit of hysterical laughter, and took out her wand to repair the damage.

"That's yours," she told him once she was done, the deck of cards safely turned upside down.

"Oh, I have others. You can keep it if you want," he retorted flippantly.

There was a beat of silence. "I don't. It's yours," she repeated, and leaned forward to place it in his palm.

He had a small smirk. "As you want."

* * *

><p>The cold wind slapped Narcissa, taking her breath away and making her stagger. She hurried amongst the masses of students who were stepping down from the train. It was unpleasant and claustrophobic, being jostled this way; she broke away from the crowd, filling her lungs to the brim with the cool evening air. Her eyes drifted shut for a second, and when she opened them again, it was to spot a hovering silhouette, a ways away from the mob as well, staring at her.<p>

She hadn't changed, and the mere fact made Narcissa dizzy, harsh feelings of unfairness nagging at her. She shouldn't have the right to be Andromeda Black anymore, in any way, married or not. That wasn't relevant – nothing was relevant but the ashes of her last letter and the summer spent in dead silence and the empty bedroom and the hidden-away photos and... and... the billion things that made absence bitter, that made absence _burn_, so tangible and so painful that her standing there was the insult added to the injury. She didn't have the _right_.

She turned away, and _Meda_ raised a hand, abruptly. A flash, she only saw a flash of pale face, gleaming teeth as her mouth opened to call out – _not Meda, this wasn't Meda, not anymore_ – and she ran, pushing against the students, not seeing where she was going, not caring.

"Hey, Black." A hand seized her arm, holding firmly onto her. "Black! _Narcissa!_"

She whirled and faced Travers, standing too close altogether – she fought not to scream. She struggled instead, wildly, and he gripped both of her arms, shaking her slightly, then harder. "Come on!" she heard him call over the din, and he towed her forward, into a carriage where he pushed her into the corner before sitting by her side.

He was right in the way of her, blocking her from sight, and so the pair of Ravenclaws who got in after them never took a good look at her, all shaking hands and tear-stricken face. He turned her way, staring fearlessly into her eyes. She trembled, bit her lip and tried to hide beneath her hair, suffocating with hurt, shame and countless confused feelings.

"Sorry, didn't really handle you like a lady there," he whispered. She had a tiny, too-high laugh.

"Don't worry about it," she mumbled. "That's twice now." She blinked, slowly getting a grip. "Yes – that's twice now." She glanced up, wiping her eyes discreetly, and peered at him. "Travers? Why are you... there for me, all of a sudden?"

He grinned. "Selflessness and generosity – surely you are acquainted with the concept?"

She swatted him weakly. "We are Slytherins," she reminded.

"That doesn't make it impossible for us to act selfless and generous, my dear. Well, maybe not quite selfless – only means that we also know to catch an opportunity when we see one. And I see one." He nudged her nose, the very tip of her finger lightly, accidentally brushing her lips as he withdrew. "A pretty one."

She blushed crimson, like a naive thing, and stared at her lap. He laughed quietly.


	2. Honestly Okay

**WELL, this is up at last. So sorry for the delay, and thanks to my two favourite Laurens in the world – one for fangirlencouraging me, and the other one for nagging me ;)**

**Thanks to Kate for her very helpful criticism as well! **

**Chapter title is from the song by Dido. "And I'm so lonely I don't even wanna be with myself, any more…" Yeah. Great song.**

* * *

><p>Her head held high, she strode through the corridors, fingers white around the strap of her satchel. It was proving quite difficult to keep a perfect posture and demeanour while being more or less jostled by crowds of ravenous students, but Narcissa made sure she managed. She stared right ahead, her face smooth and expressionless, seemingly oblivious to the eyes peering at her, the whispers hissing and echoing in her ear. Narcissa stepped into the Great Hall and crossed directly to the Slytherin table, dropping into a seat by Adrian Travers' side. At long last, she released the shaky breath she'd been holding.<p>

"Why, hello to you too," came the snarky voice of her neighbour.

She glanced his way: a newspaper was spread out in front of him, half concealing his face from view. She repressed an amused snort. "Hello, dear Travers," she uttered, "I've seen you at breakfast already, you know."

He smirked. "Right." Then his attention was directed at the _Prophet _again, and Cissy turned, sighing, back to the table. Her neck was prickling with the unnerving feel of countless gazes boring into her. She was quite used to public attention, and she'd been the subject of gossip before, for unpleasant reasons sometimes. However, this felt different and it distressed her somehow. With slow, deliberate moves, she helped herself to some fish and vegetables. Then she took a sip of water, staring into space for a minute.

"So how has your morning been?" Travers drawled conversationally from behind his paper, after swallowing a bite of pie.

"Oh, the usual. Quite boring, frankly," she said without missing a beat. She left the half-lie hanging a moment as she set down her glass and toyed with her fork. Then she added: "I can't wait for next year to be dropping Arithmancy and Divination, to be honest. Those two subjects are supposed to be opposites, and yet I find them equally confusing."

"Arithmancy is hard, but it's logical," he pointed out. "Seen from across the classroom though, you did look a bit puzzled, I have to admit."

"It's a headache," she sighed. "I'm better at Runes though," she said defensively.

"Oh, I know. I'm in your class, remember?" He chuckled. Their gazes met, and Cissy looked away, swiftly taking a small bite. Travers went back to both his own plate and his reading. She appreciated that – she had always disliked being gawked at while she was eating, or having to witness people stuffing their faces obscenely. And sadly enough, most of her fellow students were no classy, well-mannered young individuals, she considered darkly as her eyes swept across the table.

"I never did understand why you took Divination in the first place. Then again, I'm at a loss as to why anyone in their right mind would," he commented after a while.

"Oh, I suppose it can be interesting," she replied, "but it's so vague. My sisters both took it – one hated it, one loved it, so – "

She stopped mid-sentence. He glanced up, and then away, allowing her to breathe freely through her suddenly tight throat. Narcissa blinked and stared off, at an unfocused point somewhere near the Ravenclaw table. Then she gathered herself and took another sip of water. It made her shiver slightly.

"Why did you take Care of Magical Creatures?" she wondered.

He had a crooked grin. "Surprisingly enough, I like animals," he said. "Magical animals, of course – and interesting ones. Don't let that ruin your image of me; I could still drown a bag of kittens without blinking."

She shuddered theatrically. "I wouldn't put it past you. Not that I like kittens that much myself. As far as animals are concerned, I am an owl kind of girl."

He gasped in mock surprise. "What, no pedigree kittens with silver collars around their necks?"

"No," she told him. "Owls."

"So you're not that much of a blonde stereotype after all!"

She swatted him.

"I meant the spoiled-angel, Daddy's-little-girl blonde," he specified.

"I am no stereotype. I am high-class." She wrinkled her nose.

"Didn't you just contradict yourself?"

"Do not be absurd. You know nothing of what society is like."

He winked at her. "Thank Salazar," he mouthed, raising his glass.

Narcissa just shook her head.

"Speaking of society, though," Travers said, "have a look at that little one over there."

She glanced up. He was pointing at a tiny girl, second year, perhaps, who was slowly making her way down the table, handling invitation cards as she went.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Slug Club," Cissy declared, after rapidly checking who had been receiving the invites.

Travers snorted. "It was certainly too tiring to come and do that himself. Our table is so far and his behind so tremendously heavy."

Cissy giggled. "He's always done that, though, hasn't he?"

"Using students as his owls? Sure."

They went silent as the young messenger neared them. "Narcissa Black?" she asked quietly.

"That's me," Cissy said coolly, and reached out to take her invitation.

"Adrian Travers?"

"Give it here," he drawled. "See, he did invite me after all," he added gleefully under his breath as the girl glided past them.

Cissy didn't respond. He looked up after a minute, and poked her arm lightly. "Black?"

She couldn't look at him. Narcissa's eyes had found a painfully familiar face across the table, and her blood felt like ice in her veins as she stared at Andromeda, sitting there twirling a similar card between her fingers dolefully. Narcissa swallowed, a ringing in her ears. This couldn't be avoided, could it? Was it her fate, then, for the whole year? In the common room, and at meals, and even at parties – that anguish, that fear of having to face her again?

"She won't go," Travers said quietly from beside her.

She stiffened and glared at him. "What would you know about anything?" she responded in a deadly whisper.

He raised an eyebrow. "I know you've done your very best to avoid looking at her so far, but still. It's pretty noticeable that she keeps to herself as much as possible – do you really think she'd go to a _party_, and one that's going to be crowded with Slytherins at that?"

Cissy looked away. "You don't know Meda," she breathed. "She can be defiant."

"Granted, she doesn't have much to lose. But I would think she's been defiant enough on many points recently, from an outsider point of view. That one would be closer to either brainlessness or masochism. You tell me if that sounds anything like her."

Narcissa swallowed, then looked down at her invite. "Should I go, then?"

"Put it this way," Travers pushed, "what will the gossips say if you don't?"

She had a small, mirthless laugh. "That I'm a coward. And that my family really did fall quite low."

"Why?"

"Because we can't even pretend and live up to our social standing anymore. Because we're nothing if we're not on top."

"I'll take your word for that part," Travers said softly, "but that sounds about right. See, even I more or less get the way society works."

She didn't reply, just twirled the invite between her fingers, once or twice.

Gently, he took it from her.

"Be brave, Cissy Black," he taunted. "Show them what you're made of."

Cissy set her jaw. "All right then."

* * *

><p>"Why, don't you look quite lovely."<p>

And Cissy's cheeks burned a furious shade of crimson again. It had been an unspoken thing, that they should meet there at the entrance of the common room, and go to the party together. It didn't really mean anything, just footsteps sounding along hers, just a silhouette by her side, a familiar voice. She wouldn't be alone with her shadow on the wall and the silence, and she wouldn't chicken out and turn back to the dungeons in a hurry. She was Narcissa Black, see, and she needed no one even when she did. He understood that. He didn't need her either, and he wasn't expecting anything. It was written in the careless arch of his smile, and the drawl of his voice sounded provocative and nothing else. What else could it have been?

"Thank you – you don't look too bad, either," she said airily, and they smoothly fell into step together.

Soon enough the noise of the party reached them, low voices and laughter along with the soft clinking of glasses. Cissy found her smile and breathed slowly in and out, the society girl who loved such gatherings finding her way through her anxiety. Chin high, she pushed the door to Slughorn's office and walked in first.

It was a small occasion, a first-time thing. There was slow music and a buffet; Narcissa's gaze swept across the room swiftly, scanning faces. Many were familiar. Alcyone stood close to Slughorn, to her dismay, with Selwyn by her side. Virgil Greengrass, Claudius Flint, the Yaxleys and Lucius Malfoy… Narcissa's blood turned cold as she met Cassandra's gaze across the room. The Burke sisters were standing there in a corner, talking quietly. But Meda did not stand by Carmilla, and Cissy fought the tremors that had started rocking through her.

"For Merlin's sake," Travers muttered, and nudged her forward.

They crossed the room, and Slughorn joined them in the middle, spreading his arms with a benign chuckle. "Miss Black, how delightful!" he exclaimed. "It is lovely to see you join my little elite, my dear, truly lovely – and this young man must be the talented Mr Travers!"

"Good evening, sir," Travers replied pleasantly.

"Good evening to you! Now, I trust you all know one another – Miss Nott? Mr Selwyn?"

"We are acquainted indeed," Alcyone purred, her smile sickly sweet in Cissy's direction.

"How lovely," Slughorn chortled. "Now, if we all know one another – where were we, my dear Miss Nott – you were about to tell me about your eldest brother, I believe? He has started a Ministry career, has he not?"

"Oh yes. Hector is currently doing an internship in the International Magical Trading Standards Body," Alcyone uttered with smugness dripping from her every syllable. "His appointment is not quite official yet, but clearly his potential has been assessed, and his superiors declared themselves to be highly satisfied with his work."

"Good, good. I never doubted this boy would make quick progress…"

"He is most grateful for the relations your acquaintance gifted him with," the girl pushed obsequiously, "your trust in him has proved most rewarding."

"I have been known to do that," he chuckled self-satisfiedly, "do send him my regards." His gaze swept around the little circle he found himself surrounded with rapidly. "Speaking of appreciated former students… Dear Narcissa, I believe your sister Bellatrix's wedding is to take place quite soon?"

"Yes sir, just after Christmas," Narcissa said. "It is to be the event of the season."

"Good, good. I very much liked Rodolphus when he was at school, as well. I shall probably have the honour of gracing you with my presence," Slughorn announced.

Cissy smiled. "It would be lovely to have you."

"What about the rest of the family? Cygnus, Orion, Walburga? How are they all doing?"

Narcissa felt a cold breeze brush against her side as Travers stalked away. "Excuse me," he'd muttered, and the circle stared at his retreating back. Rapidly recovering, Cissy flicked her hair in nervosity before she responded: "They are all very well, sir, thank you. My father is extremely busy with his work, as is uncle Orion, I assume. His and Aunt Walburga's son, my cousin Sirius, will be starting school next year."

"It will be a pleasure to welcome one more Black in Slytherin!" Slughorn exclaimed, beaming, and Cissy smiled and nodded. She was very much enjoying Alcyone's scowl at the attention she was getting.

"But I am neglecting all my duties!" Slughorn cried all of a sudden. "Excuse me, young people – there are other guests of mine whom I have yet to greet!" As he scurried away towards another group, as fast as his short, chubby, lazy legs could possibly carry him, Alcyone's scowl deepened and Narcissa tensed, and found herself missing having Travers at her side.

"And how is your loveliest sister, Narcissa?" the girl taunted, "is she enjoying ruining her house's image and her family's reputation? I assume that the Mudblood writes everyday, doesn't he? How _sweet_."

"I do not see what you're talking about, Alcyone," Narcissa said stiffly. "She is no sister of mine." She half-turned, ready to leave.

"How convenient. Well, I would know more about her than you do, certainly. Have you heard that Dumbledore himself requested that the Slytherin prefects keep an eye on the situation with her? Heavens forbid precious traitor Andromeda Black should get bullied!" Narcissa was walking away on unfeeling legs, glazing blankly ahead, and so Alcyone raised her voice a little at the end of her vicious little speech – not enough to embarrass herself, yet in a vastly sufficient way so as to ensure that she would be noticed. People were staring. They always, always stared, and Cissy walked faster, her heart fluttering in her chest. Her eyes quickly scanned the room for Travers – and got hooked, instead, into Cassandra's gaze.

"Cissy," Cassie said, stepping towards her, "we need to talk."

"No we don't," Narcissa muttered, brushing past her in a hurry.

"Are we never going to be friends anymore?" the girl called behind her, her voice high and harsh with the lump of frustration in her throat.

_Never,_ Cissy longed to scream. Did she need friends anyway? Friends were nice company until they stabbed you in the back. Friends had never done a thing against the ever-growing void in her insides and her world. But her eyes found Travers by the buffet and she rushed to him. Was he a friend? Certainly not. But a reassuring presence, somehow, indeed. Perhaps she could rely on that.

Or perhaps not.

"Are you done socializing?" he mocked as he raised his glass to her. She just nodded numbly and drank some Butterbeer herself, for composure. The warmth felt soothing somehow, but the too-sweet flavour saturated her taste buds and made her feel slightly queasy. There was some kind of sourness lurking within, and she clutched her drink with both hands.

Travers cocked an eyebrow at her as he picked a canapé. "Enjoying yourself?" he enquired flippantly.

"Take a guess," she said sullenly.

He groaned slightly. "I think I can, that's right." He pushed a plate towards her. She stared. It was a pyramid of small chocolate cakes. "Have something to eat. You're looking pretty white."

"I'm fine. We just had dinner," Cissy said, turning her nose up.

He snorted. "Like hell _we_ just had dinner." He turned to fully face her, his eyes glinting oddly, and Narcissa sort of wanted to look away, but she found herself transfixed. "Dance with me then. That's the next best thing."

And in a way, it was tempting, which just wouldn't do. Narcissa cleared her throat, setting down her glass carefully. "Thank you, but no thank you," she said. "I…"

"Come on, Cissy Black," he growled, voice low and rough and a bit short on breath, until she wondered what he'd been drinking exactly. "Don't be such a coward. You've got to say yes to something, at _least_."

That stung. She glared. "Do I?"

"Don't you ever want to start _living?_" he shot back viciously, "don't you have the guts? Or is starving yourself really much more fun?"

She was flushing deep red, with traitor tears scalding her eyes and stares boring into her neck, and she needed to escape anyway. Narcissa stepped forward, her jaw tight, white fingers clutching Travers' shoulder and digging into the fabric of his robes. Quickly, he set down his glass and wrapped his free arm around her waist, towing her to where a few couples were dancing. She was like a doll in his grasp.

The song was slow and his hands were warm. Cissy's eyelids fluttered closed for a minute, remembering in a flash a dance in her father's arms – years before, it tormented and evaded her as one of the many past things that could not be recovered. Travers was quite good though, and cocked a smug eyebrow at her when she peered up at him, pleasantly surprised. They twirled lazily in a circle and she found herself more and more aware of his body heat, the rough and forward reality of him against her chest, her arms, as she caught gazes lingering on her again. They were quite the odd pair, the talented and whimsical half-blood with the precious Black princess, the maiden daughter with pretty eyes and hair, impeccable manners and her sisters' infamy on her shoulders – not quite thin enough to be perfect, nor invisible. People wondered and smirked as she danced with her first non-pureblood partner ever, a flighty fifteen. And then the fear found the frustration and the frenzy, somewhere at the very bottom of her gut. The mix was spicy and more reckless than anything she'd ever known, and as Narcissa Black twirled gracefully into Travers' arms, she stood on her tiptoes and got a swift taste of his lips.

It was salty, soft and foreign, with an accompanying rush of air into her head that left her more confused than previously. It was short-lived and followed by a beat of silence. As it happened, the song had just ended and she could hear nothing clearly over the din of voices and the beating of her heart. Travers pulled on her hand. She followed him in a corner that was less populated and still. Then he dipped his head with a challenge in his eyes, and she accepted it silently.

There was a sweet, lingering taste on his tongue. She wondered briefly and then forgot it. The warmth and oblivion filled her better than any drink would have. It was heady. It felt complete.

For a few moments, she forgot to breathe.


	3. Fill Me In

**Here's the third chapter! Dedicated to the lovely Hermione's Harmony, as I was hesitating to include this at first, but her desire to see more of Travers/Narcissa helped me decide =) Title is from the Craig David song…**

A cloud of perfume floated around the bathroom. Narcissa rubbed her wrists together, brushed her fingers over the perfectly smooth bun she had done her hair in, flexed and then relaxed her white hands, twirled lightly on her heel, skirts floating around her, careful to keep her balance. She breathed in, and then out, before checking the mirror one more time. Once, and then twice; defiant, she pulled a face at her reflection, and then breezed out of the room.

Her heels clicked with a clear, striking sound against the flagstones as she darted in and out of her dormitory, just grabbing her bag before she swiftly departed. The common room was a flurry of activity, everybody getting ready with noise and clamour, and Cissy thanked her lucky stars for the opportunity to slip by unnoticed. They had agreed to meet in the Entrance Hall. She hurried from the dungeons, hugging her cloak closer to her slim body, silly nerves fluttering and bubbling into her stomach.

Adrian Travers was waiting for her, leaning against the wall, right in front of the huge oak doors, and her heart hopped within her chest as her gaze swept across the space looking for him, before it settled over his tall, thin form. Even then she did not quite relax, a feeling of tightness spread over her throat and lungs was nagging at her awareness still. It was not painful nor entirely distressing, nothing like feelings she had been acquainted with before – merely uncomfortable, and quite unnerving, in the sheer restlessness of it. As she smiled her lips felt tight, and her fingers cold, suspended in midair and abruptly unsure. He reached out, grabbed a firm hold of her hovering hand, and pulled lightly.

The weather outside was quite cool and sunless, but his hand felt very warm, and it was foreign to feel it wrapped around her own slender one, but bizarrely pleasant for such a tiny thing. Cissy stepped a little closer to him, their shoulders just barely brushing as they walked.

"Pretty cold out there, isn't it?" Adrian drawled, throwing her a glance that was gently mocking, and alive with a gleam of satisfaction.

Narcissa preferred looking steadily at the path before them, deeming it safer for now. "Are we going to make small talk?" she enquired carelessly.

"Guess you rather expected me to comment on how lovely you're looking right now," he speculated. "Well, it wasn't from lack of noticing, at any rate."

And at least her cheeks were warming up at the same rapid pace as her fingers were. "I hardly expect anything from you anymore," she told him.

"And how right you are, Cissy." He chuckled, and she got the impression, once more, that the mere presence of her hand in his filled him with a smug, disbelieving kind of glee. Her pet name sounded soft and wry upon his sharp tongue, but it wasn't unpleasant at all. She felt so strangely safe with him by her side. This one may have an erratic way with truths, but he wouldn't lie straight to her face – the certainty of it was coming from nowhere, it was strong, however, and she could rely on it. He didn't seem willing to leave her either.

Impulsively, she squeezed his fingers tighter.

* * *

><p><p>

Hogsmeade was noisy and populated as ever. The pair strolled around the village a bit aimlessly, not too sure what to do with themselves and one another. Their linked hands were proving to be a slight hindrance to the usual casual and careless quality of their conversation, and Narcissa would have died rather than to end up for tea at Madam Puddifoot's, which seemed to be the other couples' ultimate destination, nine times out of ten. Travers appeared equally horrified by the prospect, thankfully.

"No. Just no. This looks like an old lady's parlour!" he ranted as they dashed across the street, somehow fearing that there should be Confondus Charms exerted over the area, as it seemed to be the only likely reason. "It's not even only the Hufflepuff couples! I saw rather haughty girls in there, and cocky guys – how can they imagine being seen in such a place? How do they stomach the decoration without feeling sick? I just don't get it."

"Mystery of life," Cissy said, giggling nervously. "Maybe she sells illegal drinks and nobody else knows. Or maybe it's just because the threat of Rosmerta is enough to draw any girl away from the Three Broomsticks, and who would go for a date at the Hog's Head?"

Travers froze dramatically in the middle of the street. "Cissy? I think you just bashed my plans," he complained.

Narcissa stared, and then made to escape.

"I was joking, you fool!" he cried, catching her as she bolted, "I might not be a gentleman, but goat dung ruins the picture for me, too!"

"So either I'll tolerate Rosmerta, or we're in for the sweet company of cool autumn wind and our own two legs as the only constant to our location," she breathed. "Sweet. Plus, I think it might rain – "

They were leaning against one another, out in the street with his hands still grasping her arms, and Travers had a fancy to prove his former point in regard to his scarcely gentlemanly ways, by kissing her midway through a sentence and for the whole world to see. Narcissa gasped, taken off guard, but she didn't find it in her to be offended by his decidedly feral behaviour, nor unnerved at the thought of her reputation. Actually, this felt rather nice – very nice – and she stood on her tiptoes, her back arching slightly, as he towered above her. His hands freed her arms, sliding to find her waist, and her face felt very hot at his touch, however light. Her own hands clung to his shoulders as her balance seemed challenged, both metaphorically and in the most obvious sense of the term. He stole her breath and her wits for a while, before they broke apart with a gasp.

"Might not be the best place, uh?" he muttered.

Indeed, people were glancing at them quite often and repeatedly. Flushed, warm and feeling outlandishly reckless – and very much alive, Cissy deemed they should all go to hell or someplace similar, or at any rate leave her alone. They did not matter – this feeling did, and so she smiled, defiant.

"You started it," she said, "But yes, let's go stroll around aimlessly."

Instinctively, she claimed his arm as any lady would, proper and possessive, and he smirked. His heart was hammering, admittedly, and his eyes lightly traced the shape of her with definite fondness, though he'd straightened up and tried his best to look worthy of little Narcissa Black hanging on his arm. They set off, quite light-headed and holding on tight.

* * *

><p><p>

"Just look at that!" Travers exclaimed, pulling her in front of the brilliantly lit shop window.

Honeydukes lay before them like a box of jewels, glittering faintly, artful, tactful and yet rousing the most basic instincts with its shameless seduction. Narcissa swallowed hard and leaned against her companion, torn between undeniable attraction and the urge to run for her life. It was pretty, she had to admit, it was a sight, all warm lights and vivid colours, full of life. It seemed to nurse the delusion that pleasure was simple and happiness reachable, if one merely found themselves in such a cocoon, with a loved one, and allowed themselves to enjoy a moment of sweetness. It could be brief. It could – what was but one Chocolate Frog in the wide scheme of life – and she supposed it could be controlled. One sweet. Just one sweet, please. But everything glowed and everything was appealing and everything pretended to be harmless – this was a madhouse. It was bustling and bursting with life and activity, a thriving business with no need for her – and her fellow students stood in bunches inside, pressed against one another in the warm and narrow space, leaning against the display stands and pointing excitedly at the objects of their wants, laughing, mouths opening wide, teeth glinting, avid.

"A Knut for your thoughts," Travers said, poking her elbow. "I'd give much more, actually."

Cissy didn't bother debate over the worth of her head's contents, it would have led to actually delivering the wanted information, and she summed up her inner whirlwind with a shrug. "It's pretty," she uttered. "Are we going to stand there forever?"

"Actually no, I was sort of planning to step inside, if my lady doesn't object," he replied smoothly, draping his arm around her shoulders.

Something twisted in Narcissa's chest, but a "No!" didn't fly to her lips as easily as she might have liked. She found herself paralyzed, part of her willing enough to nod, willing enough to walk into the shop and meddle in the crowd. It was probably so smothering. There might be Mudbloods in there. But she'd had more bitter than sweet to chew over the past few months, definitely, and perhaps one wouldn't hurt? Just to let go of the anxiety. Just to prove herself that she could handle it. Breathe deeply and say yes. Just yes. Three letters, one word, one jerky, confident move of the tongue, surging forward against her teeth.

Yes.

"Mm-mm," she mumbled, and took a step forward as her speech might lack in clarity. He chuckled close to her ear and the door whirled open before them, letting another couple into the cool autumn air.

It was like a joke, a likeness at the opposed end of a spectrum, a boy fair with his arm around light shoulders and dark hair to frame a face that never ceased to be too familiar altogether. Cissy had something stuck in her throat, surely, and she choked for air as disbelief fluttered into her lungs. Oh, sweet irony, she dimly thought and the girl before her gaped in shock as well, reeling back.

"Cissy." She blinked and shook her head, almost looking like she'd be trying to smile next. "Well, you in Honeydukes." Her gaze flickered to Travers and Narcissa felt trapped, dirty and bare. It hurt that Meda still knew her and it hurt that she didn't anymore, that maybe she never truly had. Cissy fought to find her anger as she would need a modicum of dynamic to get the hell away from there.

"I won't lie, it's good to see you," Andromeda stated.

The Mudblood at her side seemed at a loss for what to do with himself, but Meda reached out and grabbed her sister's hand. Cissy jumped, yet felt too numb to withdraw. Meda squeezed her fingers with a backward smile, and then brushed past her, thankfully. They were left in the threshold, just Travers and her, blocking the way.

He steered her away from the door, back onto the street in the opposite direction, walking quickly. Her legs worked independently to her dazed brain and she blinked a couple of times, speechless. Her eyes started stinging. A light, drizzling rain soon began to fall and she felt, all the more, chilled to the bone. Travers pushed a door and led her somewhere noisy and hot and brightly lit. He sat her in a corner and remained close to her, one hand covering hers, that lay frozen on her lap. Her cheek found his shoulder and she squeezed her lids shut.

* * *

><p><p>

"Go away," he growled after a while, "does that look like the right moment to you?"

Cissy opened her eyes. Of course it would be the Burke sisters standing there, looking anxious. "It's okay," she murmured, feeling too tired to run and, perhaps, to feel.

Cassie breathed. "Finally!" She took a seat at their table, and her sister hovered, then did the same. Carmilla, Cara, Meda's best friend. And Cassie, who was supposed to be her own. Narcissa didn't move from her position against Travers' shoulder, and waited for them to speak.

"Well," Cassie started nervously, "it's been a while."

Cara rolled her eyes. "Oh, really, Cass?" she muttered.

Ignoring her, Cassie stared into Narcissa's eyes. "Cissy, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I know you think I betrayed you, and I also know that it is quite legitimate for you to do so. But I got caught in your family's secrets, and I couldn't just go and spill everything I knew about Meda, even if I was your friend before I was hers. I just couldn't."

"The two of you were with her in this," Narcissa said quietly.

"We were her friends, Cissy," Carmilla cut in, "so yes, we knew what was going on, and we tried to help her make the right choice – which she didn't. We respected her. I'm sorry it ended up this way. The thought of her with the Mudblood disgusts me, too, and most of all I'm sorry we couldn't warn you beforehand, so that you could talk to her. But honestly, Cissy… Last year you hardly talked to us at all, and neither to her." She shook her head. "I know it's easier to blame us. But it won't solve everything. It can't make things right to shut everybody out and refuse to deal with it all."

Narcissa tried to swallow the lump in her throat as Cara eventually quietened, holding her gaze with composed determination. She wanted to scream at the girl for daring to imply that it had all been her own fault, for being so calm and in control – for making sense, when she hardly could herself. She felt trapped with all those words over the unspoken tragedy, the taboo – and trapped with the truth in them, with everything she didn't want to face. Tears blurred her vision and Cassie reached out her hand across the table.

"I want to be your friend again," she said. "You always acted like you didn't need one. But I know you do. Don't push me away."

Cassie's hand lay open and expectant on the table. Cissy's were curled together on her lap with Travers' covering them. Reaching one out, meeting her friend's halfway meant letting go of her protection, of her anger, of part of the hurt. It was a promise and it was letting Cassie in, again. Maybe it even involved letting her in deeper than before. Accepting to talk. Admitting she'd been wrong. The hand was white and slim, unbelievably demanding for such a frail thing, and Cissy closed her eyes. "I can't," she whispered, "it hurts too much."

Her eyelids shot open again, when she heard a chair being pushed back. Cassie was standing and her sister imitated her. They both seemed very tall, all of a sudden, towering above her. "All right, Narcissa," Cassie said in a low voice. "All right. I won't run after you anymore. I get tired of it too, you know… It's not like I need you after all, and if you really don't value our friendship at all, then fine. Have it your way. I guess I'll leave you alone… If you change your mind, you know where to find me." Cassandra's glare was defying the shaking of her voice as she neared the end of her speech, and then she just turned her back and stalked away. Cara followed without another word.

Cissy supposed she should have felt liberated. The issue was cleared and the girls wouldn't bother her anymore – with all the recollections and the hurt they were sure to bring to the surface each time. She had stood her ground, so why did she feel like a little girl? Why did she feel helpless, lonely – painfully immature?

Travers patted her shoulder. "I should go and order," he said, "Madam Rosmerta has been glaring daggers in our direction for the last ten minutes." She nodded mutely and he stood from the wall seat, striding away smoothly.

Narcissa watched his retreating back, carefully reminding herself that she didn't need to be alone. Travers was warmth and companionship and fun, and for all his moments of protectiveness, he hardly seemed the type to corner her with the necessity to talk. No, she mused, that wasn't like him. He was a man of few blunt words, and that suited her just fine. For now, he was exactly what she could need.

Five minutes and two Butterbeers later, she leaned against his side again, taking her mug with a whispered thanks. "No comments about all of that," she felt compelled to say, just in case, with a vague gesture towards the vacant chairs opposite them. "I'm not sure I want to hear your thoughts."

"I wasn't about to divulge them," he responded coolly, and Cissy found herself smiling a small smile, somehow.

"Fine then." A few sips of the hot liquid warmed up her insides, and then she twisted around to kiss him. He graciously obliged, one hand in her fair curls as they tumbled from her bun at last, and she savoured not having to think, but only to feel – concerns and insecurities slipping away into oblivion, her heart speeding as her mind quietened. She felt alive, briefly sated by the taste of him.

It would do, she thought, clinging to his shoulders.


	4. Crystalised

**FINALLY, chapter four! -wipes brow- why, that took time. But it's done – and I believe it's the longest of this part yet. 4900 words exactly, woohoo =)**

**This will also be an entry for Lady Eleanor Boleyn's Births, Marriages and Deaths. As will soon become obvious, it's a marriage. Bella's ;) **

**Named after the XX's song. Took out the lyrics because copyright rules. Check out the song!**

* * *

><p>The room was bustling with women of various ages, all talking in hushed, distinguished whispers as they flocked around the queen of the day. Narcissa took the time to rearrange her emerald gown, smoothing over the front carefully and pulling lightly on her gloves. Then she turned around, brushing back a strand of her loose hair.<p>

Bellatrix stood at the centre of the room and looked very much like she wanted to claw at a few of the ladies surrounding her and smothering her with comments and advice – unless she would rather pick a victim from her cluster of lilac-dressed bridesmaids. Cissy winced inwardly as she watched Lavinia Lestrange fuss over her daughter-in-law-to-be, all snarky remarks and brisk gestures. Bella shrugged her off rather roughly, and then Druella appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and entwined her own arm with which of the other happy mother, commenting over the dress with a tone of serene satisfaction. Narcissa exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.

Time was slipping by, bringing them nearer and nearer to the moment – the one that made Bella's face whiten and Cissy's heart clench. The rooms were ready, the dresses were on and the guests had arrived. There was nothing left that required preparing: nothing but beauty and anticipation, and… nerves, frayed and stretched tight, nearly to their breaking point, shuddering with the strain. After the ladies of the extended family, first, had exited the room, Druella expertly handled the six bridesmaids, ushering them out as well. Bella's scowl deepened a little more still: she had never wished to be surrounded by so many gushing girls, and doubtlessly there was nobody in the group but Cissy that she even remotely liked. Such were the ways of society, though Narcissa could, to some extent, understand her sister's dismay. Ever since she had left school and had her engagement secured, Bellatrix had seemed to enjoy a relative freedom that was well suited to her character, but in her own wedding she had had little say, and the sheer prospect of it seemed to frighten her to an unsettling degree.

Lavinia Lestrange walked out as well, at long last, and there were only the Black women left: the mother and sister of the bride, to support and assist her. Narcissa fought back the feeling of absence that threatened to overwhelm her. Instead, she focused on watching her eldest – her _only_ – sibling, standing there in her princess' dress, looking paralyzed. Druella walked up to her, arranging the last details, a bit uselessly, just for something to do; and then she caressed Bellatrix's cheek, once, and left the sisters together wordlessly.

"You look amazing," Narcissa spoke. Bellatrix was shaking. Her gaze leapt from mirror to dress to sister to door, and back again, never seeming to settle on anything that could appease her. Her hand subconsciously started fingering her veil, then pulling quietly at it, and Cissy stepped forward, wrapping her dainty digits around her sister's wrist delicately.

"It's going to be all right, Bella," she promised. "It's normal to be scared. But it will be okay. You chose Rodolphus… You love him. He won't trap you or anything, the two of you are going to be happy."

Bella stared at her. "I love him…?" she uttered. "Cissy…"

Narcissa faltered, taken off guard. "Well," she breathed, rapidly wetting her dry lips, "maybe not… like a fairytale, but you've been with him for way over one year, and the pair of you seems to get along perfectly – you're always off with him somewhere! Even if… you may feel unsure, it's a good match, it really is! Isn't it?"

"I don't want to," Bellatrix said hoarsely, "I don't want to walk down that aisle and be _his_." She broke free from Narcissa's hold to start rubbing her arms anxiously. "I won't belong to him. I can't."

"Bella, you can't belong to a man anyway," Cissy pointed out, starting to feel rather worried. "You don't have to… it doesn't have to be that way with Rodolphus, right? What matters is the marriage. Then, the two of you will be free to lead your life as you may choose."

Bellatrix had a rather hollow laugh. "I suppose I can't," she muttered. "But… and…" She just shook her head, biting her lips hard.

Narcissa was feeling distinctively uncomfortable, as though something quite important were evading her. She brushed her concern aside, reminding herself that Bellatrix had never been delighted with the sheer concept of marriage. Only a fool would have been surprised by her rejection of the idea, added a vicious little voice within her mind.

"And just look at that dress," Bella hissed bitterly, and Cissy felt relieved. Now _that_ was a complaint that didn't throw her in the slightest.

"It looks beautiful, Bella," she told her sister. "I know it is rather fancy, and heavy, but it's your wedding day… You look dashing, honestly."

"It is _gold_," Bellatrix growled. "White and gold – just look at it! And that veil, that ludicrous hairdo… I can scarcely move my head," she ranted. Narcissa allowed her to let off her steam. Bellatrix swallowed and went quiet, still rubbing her arms.

"It's almost time," Narcissa whispered, "father will be here soon."

Bella blinked, seemingly summoned back from some dark reverie. "You're going to be the last Black maiden," she murmured, "at New Year's ball… They'll all be out for your heart…" Something like a smile, or the twisted edge of it, touched her tense mouth. Cissy laughed it off, awkwardly thinking of Travers. "That's for sure," she agreed, or pretended to agree.

The door opened then, and they both turned towards their father in the threshold, holding out his hand. "Ready?" he enquired and Bellatrix shot back, "Not nearly."

Cygnus Black cracked a smile. "It is time, regardless," he spoke, and walked into the room, right to his eldest daughter, whose arm he firmly took. "Let us go," he whispered, and then added: "Shall you lead the way, Narcissa?"

Cissy found her feet, pushing the door open and slipping out, the rhythmic clicking sound of her heels seeming to echo with a weight she'd never pondered before. She walked through the empty corridors with her head held high, sensing her father and sister's presence behind her. Then she faced a pair of great wooden doors through which slight strings of notes were drifting. The great reception room at Lestrange Mansion, Bella's new home and crowds of guests waiting inside, sitting in appropriate expectation with their eyes wide open. Cissy mentally counted to three, tossed a glance over her shoulder – a glimpse into whiteness, the white dress and Bellatrix's white face as she stared back at her, irises gleaming black before the veil slid into place – and opened the double doors.

A low, polite murmur spread from the back rows all the way to the front, and a rustling of fabric serenaded its welcome into correct society as everybody slowly, refinedly pivoted to see the bride enter. _Not too fast_, screamed a voice in Narcissa's head while she led the way up the aisle, her eyes on the groom, tall and impressive as he stared right past her, and then the marriage officiant. After what felt like an endless span of time, Cissy could at last turn around with a little flourish of her skirts, standing in front of the neatly-lined bridesmaids, and join the still and the watchful.

Bellatrix looked like something out of a fairytale, slowly gliding her way forward while resting lightly on her father's arm. Ever since she was a little girl, Narcissa had been very aware of the eerieness that was a marriage – feeling it much more keenly than other children would have. She knew all about duties, responsibilities, social standards and alliances, she knew all of the tiny details that mattered oh-so-much and the fine art of decorating in all its subtleties, and this complex, rational web of concerns that shaped the reality of a wedding only made the enchantment stand out all the more – the perfection and the intensity of the moment, the way everything that had been planned and prepared down to the smallest details turned into something real and somehow appeared absolutely natural. Her sister's fears and reticences forgotten, she stood as a queen in her castle: the perfect setting of the ceremony and the bride in the middle, glowing white and pure. Cissy's throat was tight as Bellatrix reached them. Cygnus placed his daughter's dainty, gloved hand into Rodolphus', and stepped backwards to take his place in the front row. The officiant cleared his throat quietly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he spoke, "we are gathered here today to unite two ancient bloodlines, in the person of these young souls…"

Narcissa allowed her eyelids to drift downwards, half-shut as she let the familiar words wash over her. The world looked scattered with gold through her long, fair lashes, sunny powder floating lazily. So many weddings she had attended – had it been that many? Or had the thrill of the planning made the events appear more frequent than they actually were, there being always a ceremony to prepare, months and months in advance? Regardless, it was the pureblood institution – the very same that, before her faraway gaze, turned Bellatrix Black into Madame Lestrange. The line carried on – traditions carried on, far greater than their beings, no matter what. Cissy swallowed.

"…then I declare you bonded for life."

* * *

><p>It was snowing again: tiny, fluffy flakes drifted lazily towards the white-coated ground, a world of quietness. Cissy briefly took in the sight, forgetting the hustle and bustle at her back, all the matters that might require attending to. A winter wedding, dream-like and delicately iced over – this was the image she would keep. Slowly, she allowed the drape to fall back over the window's glass and turned around again, plastering a smile upon her features.<p>

The first thing she saw was her sister where she stood a ways away, surrounded by dainty circles converging to congratulate. Vaguely aware that Bellatrix might be in dire need of some comfort or support so as to avoid blasting anybody's head off, Cissy crossed the room towards the happy couple. She slowed as she neared them, the sheer tension in the air sending a chill crawling down her spine. Bella whirled away from a pair of tiny ladies then, and Narcissa held her breath as Druella hastily appeared to avoid an altercation.

Rodolphus' hold seemed rough as he grabbed his wife's left arm before she could stalk away from him as well, unnecessarily, almost frighteningly rough around Bella's slim limb. Narcissa winced, the Lestranges' every move exuding something raw, dangerous that chilled her to the core – and she longed to walk up to them, to push them back into an acceptable position and shake some sense into Bella or maybe hug her hard, she didn't know. An unsettling hostility against Rodolphus stirred within her. It was his job to watch over Bellatrix now and make sure she didn't do anything overly stupid, and thus far he did not quite seem to be handling that massive task correctly.

_Hypocrit_, taunted her inner voice. She fought to shake off the uncertainty. Bella was a handful to love and to live with, anybody with an ounce of common sense would have seen that. She was the little sister. It wasn't her responsibility to look after her elders… She swallowed hard. It really wasn't.

Narcissa moved closer, forcing the worries into a corner of her mind. Bella had shaken her new husband's grip off. She glared daggers into his face as he spoke in low, harsh tones, clear blue eyes boring into her face.

"You will stop this, Bella," she heard as she neared them, "isn't this what you were longing for? To get a good look at our guests? Well, he's not there…"

She saw nothing but Bellatrix's dark eyes glaring over the groom's shoulder then, and she heard nothing but her sister's frantic hiss as she gestured – wildly – in her direction. Rodolphus pivoted and discovered her frozen there, numb and unsure. She watched as he cleared the storm from his tight mouth and the line of his eyebrows smoothly, but it raged true at the very bottom of his pale eyes, lurking underneath the clear, tricky waters. Narcissa endeavoured to compose herself so efficiently, and was not quite sure of the extent of her success. She was feeling dreadfully exposed – accused, an eavesdropper and an outsider.

"I was just…" she started, "I just wondered…". She stumbled for her words, longing to just turn around and disappear.

"Whether we would manage attending to our guests properly?" Rodolphus supplied. His voice was the same as she'd always heard it, low, pleasant and collected, but for the first time she had no idea how to place him. Family, they were family by now, she remembered.

"Yes," she croaked weakly.

"Well," he breathed, "if you can make sure my wife doesn't run off, I should be able to honour my responsibilities as groom." A hint of a smile stretched his thin lips.

Without awaiting a response he just strode past her, lost among the crowd the next second. Somewhere between anxiously wondering who else might have noticed something was off and warily assessing the tangle of unknown that was Rodolphus Lestrange, Narcissa looked at her sister and found her white-faced, staring blankly with vacant eyes.

"Bella?" she almost whimpered, loathing herself for how pitiful she sounded. This was a wedding, she reminded herself forcefully, this was a wedding and Bellatrix was just kicking up a fuss, reluctant as ever before the constraints of society – and the image of herself as a spouse. There was no place there for the unexpected and Rodolphus… well, she'd just seen Rodolphus irate. It wasn't like she knew him that well… And Bellatrix could have infuriated a saint. It was truly nothing surprising.

"Yes," her sister responded automatically, blinking as if emerging from a dream, or a nightmare. She stared at Narcissa, seeming half as though she expected something – and half as though she expected nothing at all.

"Your guests are awaiting," Cissy managed. She couldn't bring herself to ask – to ask anything. Later, she promised herself, knowing it'd be too late.

Bellatrix scowled. "I quite know that." Without warning, she walked past her as well, slipping away in a heartbeat. Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest and breathed slowly, deeply. The air flowed her lungs, heavy with expensive perfume and the scent of flowers. It made her feel dizzy.

* * *

><p>Narcissa slipped through the crowd easily, providing smiles and a few pleasant words here and there as she went. Meeting her mother's eye across the room, she noted that Druella appeared quite satisfied, though her daughter could also tell that she remained tense still. People were slowly settling at their allotted places for dinner, after which there would be further celebrations, with dancing, until the night came to an end. Narcissa reached her own table, a few steps from where the bride and groom would take place, along with Cygnus, Rodolphus' father and his brother and best man, Rabastan. Two ladies were already sitting there, talking quietly. Cissy shook off a brief surge of paranoia as they halted their speech upon her arrival. She recognized Mrs Nott and Mrs Malfoy, and curtseyed gracefully before she took her seat.<p>

"Hello, Narcissa," greeted Mrs Nott, and Mrs Malfoy echoed: "Miss Black," with a nod of her head.

"Mrs Nott – Mrs Malfoy," she responded politely. She knew Silvia Nott quite well since the woman was a close acquaintance of her mother's, but Circe Malfoy was close to a stranger, and as she looked upon her, she found the intense, slightly inquisitive look of her serious grey eyes to be slightly unsettling. Her attention was thankfully diverted by the arrival of Harmonia Greengrass, her mother's best friend and confidante – followed, to her dismay, by Alcyone Nott, all saccharine smiles and mocking glances.

As dinner was served, conversation flowed easily between the lot of them, all well-bred and proper, all pleasant company. The family of the bride was congratulated, the wedding's organization and setting were praised and the main one of the following social events, the New Year's ball that would be hosted at Black Manor and which Narcissa would attend as a debutante, was duly discussed. Then the topic switched to Hogwarts; all of them belonging or having belonged to the fair and noble house of Salazar Slytherin, they had many traditions or recollections to share. The younger girls' upcoming OWLs and their school results in general were also evoked. Although Alcyone's smug tone and attitude soon proved to be an inherited trait, the discussion remained agreeable; and Narcissa talked animatedly, paying only the minimal required attention to her dish. Once in a while she could feel Harmonia's eye on her, or Circe's; but it always quickly passed, and she smiled demurely, a picture of perfection.

They reached dessert, by which the conversation had drifted to Diagon Alley; and as Mrs Nott and Harmonia Greengrass leaned their heads together and Alcyone attempted to look witty, Narcissa stole a glance around the other tables while carefully cutting her portion of cake. Bella's mouth was tight, her cheeks tinted an angry red, though her father and husband seemed calm, deceptively so, Cissy assumed; and Druella was evidently watchful, despite the relaxed and pleasant façade she was keeping for her table's sake. As Narcissa's attention switched back to her own companions, stifling her unease beneath a smooth demeanour, she found Circe's eyes trained on her.

The woman leaned forward, a smile playing on her lips. "Enjoying the evening, Miss Black?"

"Oh, certainly," Narcissa responded with as much warmth as she could gather, "I've always loved weddings, and for it to be my own sister! It makes everything all the more delightful…"

Circe had a low chuckle. "I can imagine. Very beautiful bride we have here. Extremely beautiful." Mrs Malfoy's eyes were dancing with mirth, for a reason only she could presume to know.

Narcissa was at a lost for how to respond; the woman before her could not be called beautiful with any measure of honesty, yet she was certainly striking with charisma, and her conversation and intense, yet somehow derisive gazes were proving dangerously disconcerting. Cissy was beginning to see for herself why Lady Malfoy was as influent as slightly dreaded, and why everybody preferred and endeavoured to be in her good books. The woman's wit was sharp and she suspected it made quite a fine weapon – even when she did not put it to its full use, it always seemed that there would be some double meaning to her words that it would be most unfortunate to miss. Knowing that she hadn't even properly made her entrance into society and yet that Circe Malfoy's opinion of her would greatly depend on this one encounter, Narcissa fought the uncertainty off and mobilized her own quick brain and flawless manners.

"Indeed," she said with a candid smile, "it was quite a success. Though Hogwarts kept me from participating as much as I would have wished, planning such an important ceremony was still no easy task – and yet I never seem to get tired of it."

"And from what I can see, you hardly lack the talent to match this enthusiasm," Circe remarked politely. She gestured to Narcissa's plate. "This cake is sinfully delicious!" Nodding with a smile, she ate a small portion of her own helping, not taking her eyes off her companion.

Cissy felt colour flood her cheeks, an instinctive reaction. She lowered her eyes upon her plate and the carefully cut pieces of pastry, none of which she had actually touched. Stabbing a small slice, she raised it to her mouth and chewed carefully. "Down to the smallest details!" she approved with a little, off-sounding laugh.

She stole a glance at Alcyone, but the girl was thankfully too engrossed in drawing the ladies' attention to notice her schoolmate's dismay, let alone take advantage of it. Mrs Nott was listening to her offspring's vain rambles with glee, Harmonia with an entertained expression Narcissa fairly doubted was to be considered a compliment; at least _she_ was not in any way close to ridiculing herself like that. _She_ had drawn Circe's attention, and now she merely had to ensure the consequences would not be negative. She was Narcissa Black. She wasn't looking to become any lady's protégée, no matter how influential the woman might be.

"Ah, the details. So important," Circe was commenting, "when everybody is striving for perfection, the details are really what make all the difference…" She inclined her head, and Narcissa hummed her approval. The statement was really quite obvious, and yet its truth was a demanding, a dangerous one. Perfection allowed no rest, after all. For all of the flaws that could be found on Circe's face, she was perfection in her looks, artfully put together so they could appear sophisticated without displaying an excessive concern that might remind of a lack of natural beauty – and perfection in her personality more than anyone else Cissy had ever encountered, a finely-worked diamond that shone carefully polished, and yet rough somehow, in her notably unusual frankness. Mrs Malfoy was powerful enough so she didn't have to pretend, and subtle enough that one never actually knew what she thought – most importantly, she was unique among the countless ladies who sought nothing but to never show a fault. Narcissa admired and feared her; she found herself wishing she did not have to converse with her, but could remain quiet and observe without being observed in return.

Her wish was fulfilled and the whole room's attention converged once again as music filled the air, and the bride and groom rose to open the ball, twirling gracefully. Narcissa focused on the two of them dancing as though this one image of harmony could erase every flaw and every uncertainty the day had thrown into sharp light; but too soon other couples were surrounding them, stealing them from view, and then they broke apart as Lavinia claimed her eldest son and Bellatrix was handed over to Cygnus. The dancing had truly begun by then, and young bachelors stopped at their table to solicit the honour from Alcyone and Narcissa. The latter excused herself from Circe, who did not seem to be minding her any longer regardless, and let the music carry her as she spun away into warm arms. However, it must have been quite clear in everybody's mind that the youngest – the only remaining – Black maiden, though fifteen years old, was not a debutante yet, for the requests died down after a few waltzes of courtesy. Cissy was left to wander the room and make small talk pleasantly and elegantly, as was the duty of the maid of honour and sister of the bride.

Narcissa daintily sipped on a cocktail she had been handed by a passing house-elf. The creature must have been quite perturbed by the strenuous task of navigating through the talkers and the dancers without colliding into anybody, having been Disillusioned as was proper for such occasions, so as to avoid bothering the guests with the sheer sight of its lowly being; indeed, the liquor it had delivered to her was much too strong for a girl her age. However, Narcissa didn't care to complain – the liquid warmed her as it slid smoothly down her throat, relaxed her taut nerves and eased her frustration at being left aside as though she were common or ugly, just because her first official ball was still a few days away. Giggling lightly and politely at something Mr Nott had just said, she then excused herself from yet another group and sauntered away, boredom assaulting her, with the occasional spark of jealousy whenever she spotted Alcyone smirking at her from the arms of a partner or another. Biting her lips to prevent a scowl, she turned around slowly, her gaze drifting across the space.

She froze as she caught sight of a smaller silhouette that was poised at the very edge of the room, watching, like her, the twirling couples and the little bunches of people making conversation with a dark expression on his face. Sirius ought not to be there at all – he should have remained in the room that was allotted to the children, after the ceremony! If Walburga spotted him, it was likely to cause a scene. Narcissa set out quietly to approach her cousin, without drawing any unnecessary attention to herself. However, she certainly drew her target's attention; the young boy scowled at her, and then turned away and disappeared into the next room.

As long as he was away from any eye that could be offended by his utter disregard of proper behaviour, it was safe – yet as long as he wasn't under any eye that could potentially restrain him if needed… The danger was real, the dilemma serious; although Narcissa debated within herself, she already knew that she wouldn't allow this opportunity to escape to slip past her. Clutching her glass, she edged away, glancing nervously around before finally fleeing into the corridor.

She breathed then, the noise of the party a faraway, distorted reality behind her; pressure slipped from her shoulders, and a few seconds were required for her to remember about Sirius. She paced the hallways looking for him, her heart beating fast with the fear of being caught wandering without permission on another's property; she found no sight of him, and eventually intuition guided her to the great double doors at the entrance of the mansion. Cursing her cousin, she pushed them warily.

He was there indeed, sitting on the steps and watching the snow-coated ground morosely. Narcissa nearly retreated as she hardly saw any mischief he could possibly come up with here – and also as the bitter cold made her stagger, being, unlike Sirius, clothed with a dainty little dress; but something held her back, and eventually she stepped towards the boy, advancing slowly. He did not bulge at the soft clicking sound of her heels. She sat down, shivering as the coldness from the marble steps seeped into her, chilling her to the core. Hastily, she gulped a sip of her cocktail and dimly thought that the alcohol certainly made her more reckless.

"I hate it here," Sirius spoke darkly, cutting into her reflections. She shuddered a little, utterly thrown off guard, and peered at her young cousin from above her glass. The harsh bitterness of his tone was nothing she'd heard before; she had always considered Sirius as a big-mouthed, cheerful little troublemaker, always doing his very best to draw attention to himself, escape his mother's slightly tyrannical nature and on the whole do everything he wanted, regardless of rules and propriety. For the Sirius she knew – from a distance – boredom meant nothing but a challenge, a challenge he would take up in the most colourful way he could think of, making an utter nuisance of himself whenever that was humanly possible. This was the way Sirius was. One grew used to it eventually.

"Well, the evening's almost over," she murmured unhelpfully. That wasn't quite true, but she could not for the life of her think of anything better to say.

"Liar," he hissed. "And I'll still be sick of it. Even after the stupid wedding. I want to go to Hogwarts."

Ah. Sirius wanted something he could not get right away – that she could understand. Stunningly enough, it was actually a wish she had shared with her cousin. "Eight months left to wait," she said cheerfully, though she was aware the remark might only aggravate him further.

He stared at her disgustedly. "Are you that stupid or are you trying to choke your own brain cells to death?" he snapped. "I want to go away _now_! I'm sick of them. I'm sick of it all. And I want to see _her_."

Through the alcohol it took Cissy a few seconds to figure out that there was only one _her_ Sirius would have stressed with such adamant despair. She blinked in shock. Somehow she had been too busy with her own feelings to realize that Sirius would also miss…_ her_. She halted her thoughts right there. It was over, and no childish tantrum could mend that, fix what had been broken forever.

She opened her mouth to say "She's gone," yet the words did not pass her lips. Sirius was glaring straight forward, jaw rigid and searing eyes; and Narcissa shivered once more in the bitter cold, a pained sigh escaping her. Part of her would have liked to rebel too, if only it could have granted her the sweet delusion of hope. But she knew better. There was no escaping their duties – no alternative but to lose everything.

She didn't want to lose everything. She didn't want to lose her unbearable cousin, Narcissa thought dimly as her fingers, numb from the cold, reached out and squeezed his wrist.

"We love you too, you know," she uttered.

Sirius laughed cruelly, derisively. "See if I care," he spat, willing to wound.

Cissy leaned her head against his slight shoulder, feeling him tense up at her touch. She didn't apologize, just stared up into the stars – and he did the same wordlessly.


	5. Smile Like You Mean It

**In comes Lucius, FINALLY! Enjoy =)**

**Title is from the Killers song. It wasn't right for me to spend so long without naming things after The Killers :)**

* * *

><p>Narcissa stood in the shadows that hovered near the top of the stairs, waiting patiently in her beautiful gown. Her hands were brushing the soft, smooth fabric mechanically, tracing patterns that looped, graceful and tight. Her gaze floated to and fro, pausing regularly over the still silhouettes of women positioned next to the entrance. Druella, regally poised, Harmonia, slight and elegant, and Walburga with her haughty stance. They all awaited the same thing, ready to charm and to display their refinement. However, the evening, the night was hers mostly. Two minutes to nine o'clock.<p>

Seconds ticked by, soft, steady in her head as they brought her nearer and nearer to the moment. Finally, the great grandfather clock tolled, slow and solemn; Narcissa's fingers curled against her palms, and she had a long intake of breath. It was time, and she waited still, until a clear knocking sound echoed across the foyer.

Cissy did not stir as the double doors parted, letting the very first guests in: a group of three that her mother walked forward to greet. She recognized them as the Parkinson family when they stepped further into the light. Druella, Harmonia and Walburga welcomed the guests graciously; it had been arranged that they should wait together in that purpose, so that the first people to come would walk in to an elegant if small grouping, setting immediately a pleasant impression, instead of allowing for mere emptiness. However, it was not time for Narcissa quite yet; as the last Black maiden, the secondary hostess and the debutante of the evening, her entrance would be spared for later – and more important individuals. A small knot of nerves coiled into the girl's stomach. That moment, it seemed, would be everything.

While she was reflecting so, the Parkinsons discussed with the ladies on the floor below, small talk about Bella's wedding and comments destined to wishing a good health to all of the persons present and their extended family; Narcissa would have liked to tune them out, but it was required that she listen for a word of her mother's that would be the signal requesting her arrival. Thankfully, another knock resounded, and more guests stepped into the hallway before frustration and expectation could do any serious damage to her composure.

It was five minutes past nine and Narcissa hurriedly stifled a gasp as she recognized the Malfoys' signature fair hair. _Fashionably late_. Druella went to them immediately, cordial and warm as she kissed Circe's cheek. "Mrs Malfoy, and Abraxas!" she cried, "how delightful to see you tonight!"

_Delightful_. Narcissa's feet mobilized at the cue word, taking her lightly and hurriedly to the very top of the stairs. Slowly, she descended, noting from the corner of her eye the heads that raised, one by one, to witness her arrival. The Parkinsons stared up at her, wide-eyed, and a hint of a smile touched Harmonia Greengrass' lips; Circe looked briefly and directly into Cissy's blue eyes, before her attention shifted to Druella again. Mr Malfoy nodded to her; so did his son. Handsome Lucius. Narcissa hastily focused on her steps – three, two, one, there she was. "Good evening," she spoke softly.

"Good evening, Miss Black," Mrs Parkinson was the first to respond, and all of the guests echoed the greeting. The tiny, moderately attractive woman glided towards Cissy and kissed her on the cheek. The girl smiled warmly at her, catching sight of her son shuffling his feet awkwardly behind; he was two years older than herself, if her recollections did not fail her, and showed no excess of maturity in light of his age. At the very least he appeared too shy to keep the confusion from showing in his composure.

Strikingly different were the Malfoys, standing together a ways away, the father regal and imposing, the mother keen-eyed and refined, the son handsome and flawlessly put-together. Druella's presence by their side was excuse enough for Narcissa to step towards them herself – beyond her personal admiration of their charisma, she made no mistake: it was to impress _them_ indeed that her mother had called her forward at that very moment. The Malfoys and the Blacks counted among the most wealthy, elegant and influential families of old blood, and thus the rivalry, concealed underneath genial manners, was not any less fierce. _Arrogant, nouveau-riche blond people you need to make a good impression on_, her father had called them when she had enquired with her ten-year-old candidness, just prior to visiting Malfoy Manor for the first time.

"Quite lovely to see you again, Miss Black," Circe spoke airily at her approach, "Tonight is your night, I gather?"

"Thank you very much, the pleasure is all mine," she replied smoothly, "and indeed. My first ball." She had a genuine smile, and Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy murmured their congratulations. Narcissa did not look at any of the three for too long; she feared that Abraxas would frighten her, Circe unsettle her or Lucius embarrass her. Their combined presence, coupled with the importance of the moment, made her so very nervous. On the outside though, she pretended to be perfectly at ease.

Knocking sounded on the door again. "If you would excuse my daughter," Druella chimed in, "Narcissa, could you greet our newcomers?"

Narcissa curtseyed gracefully. "Certainly, Mother," she responded, "Have a pleasant evening, Mr and Mrs Malfoy!" She curtseyed to Lucius as well before hurrying to the door, careful to appear only busy and vivacious, instead of rushed. The Notts had just arrived: Monsieur and Madame Nott, their eldest son Hector, with his fiancée, Megara Bulstrode, on his arm, Hector's brother Ajax and, finally, their sister Alcyone.

Cissy greeted them all warmly, suppressing a wince at Mrs Nott's loud, booming voice. She stole a glance further down the hallway: Walburga and Harmonia had already escorted the Parkinsons to the ballroom, and Druella was in the process of leading the Malfoys in the same direction. A quarter past nine; many more guests were yet to come, but in the meantime, it was Narcissa's job to ensure that the Nott family felt sufficiently welcomed and to entertain them here until more people came in and she could excuse herself.

Right on cue, the doors opened again and Walburga reappeared to take the Notts off of her hands while she attended to yet another family. Prestigious guests came flooding in, and Cissy smiled and curtseyed again and again; her mother and aunt, as well as Harmonia, were doing a very smooth job of passing from group to group, greeting and entertaining, making everybody feel important while not masking how busy they were, and overall the gathering was being handled beautifully – which, after all of the planning, was only to be expected.

The clock struck half past nine, and Narcissa escorted a final flock of old ladies to the ballroom. The most influential people were all there already; any extremely late addition would be shown to the party by a house-elf. It was time for Cissy to truly make her entrance into the festivities.

Heads turned and whispers swelled in almighty waves when she stepped into the great, finely decorated room, graceful and smiling. Her skirts swished gently as she walked, and her gaze swept across the familiar faces; opting rapidly for a band of people who stood in her reach, she pleasantly enquired as to whether they were enjoying their evening so far. Conversation was established quite quickly from there.

For a little while Narcissa smoothly moved across the crowd, getting a good feel of the atmosphere and making an excellent impression on most of the ladies she interacted with. Druella was sitting on a couch in the middle of a little grouping by now, smiling widely and talking with a relaxed air about her; Cissy knew it meant that her mother was satisfied with the way the gathering was unfolding, and that she wholeheartedly trusted her youngest child to handle most of the hostess' duties. Although it had been decided beforehand that Narcissa should be left in the spotlight as much as was possible, it certainly did not mean the girl wasn't flattered by the confidence. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Harmonia discussing animatedly with a few others – among them were Ajax Nott and Lucius Malfoy. Before she could locate the latter's parents, however, music began, seemingly coming from the very walls and echoing elegantly up to the high ceiling.

Immediately, young people started converging in pairs to the centre of the room, while others retreated to stand by the edges or claim the comfortable seats that had been arranged strategically. Narcissa moved with the ladies she had been talking to, as most of them had no wish to dance and it would not do to abandon them all of a sudden and run off to the first bachelor who would see fit to invite her; however, she slowed slightly, purposefully as they reached a pair of couches, standing just one step away – easily reachable from the outside. When Virgil Greengrass approached her, she excused herself smoothly and glided away with him.

Virgil was in her year at school; his mother Harmonia had been tactfully pushing him Narcissa's way ever since they had started Hogwarts, joking with Druella that it would be oh-so-delightful to find their families united. However, the wish was mostly playful on her part, and as for her friend, she had only ever laughed indulgently, and never prompted the young pair to develop any further relationship than a casual acquaintance. Cissy had little opinion of Virgil's character, which would have been best portrayed by the mere word of "reserved" – he seemed rather uninterested himself, and she gathered that his mother's wheedling, though light-hearted, made him feel quite awkward still. Or maybe it had to do with his being a friend of Travers' – but this train of thought was one better kept aside to be pondered upon her return to school. Travers was no pureblood and what relationship they shared had no place on her mind when she ought to be focusing on her social standing and future.

Either way, her first dance proved quite short and uneventful, and she watched Virgil scuttle away afterwards with the mildly vexing impression that she had just been used to ease a feeling of familial responsibility. Thankfully, there were countless other young gentlemen who seemed to consider the task of wooing Narcissa to be was an advantageous mix of pleasure and duty. They also weren't _that_ bad at dancing and time started blurring past her – a whirlwind of notes and firm arms and clumsiness and laughter, _Yaxley-Avery-Selwyn-Rookwood-Macmillan_. Selwyn held her a bit too tightly, his breath hot on her cheek; Avery had clammy hands and Yaxley's feet very nearly maimed her. Rookwood slipped something in her ear, as he relinquished her to Macmillan, that was so _bitchy_ and yet so _true_ that her stomach ached from contained laughter for three minutes straight, getting worse whenever she couldn't avoid glancing at her partner's face. When she eventually escaped, the few glasses of champagne she'd been handed between dances for her parched throat were starting to fill her head with bubbles. However, she was claimed next by a stone-faced Rabastan Lestrange, and all amusement gradually drained from her mind, leaving only restlessness in its wake.

"I thought you were engaged," she noted.

"Engaged, not chained up," he grunted in response, making her raise her eyebrows. "Why, yes, I am. It is still your evening, though."

"So thoughtful of you," she commented, aiming to sound pensive and not patronizing. The Rabastan she remembered knowing had been way more pleasant, and scrupulously polite – but she could understand the change, to some extent, though she still bitterly resented it.

"So where is your fiancée?" she enquired civilly.

"Which one are you talking about?" he muttered, and this time she was positive he'd had too much to drink. "Freya has taken ill. She stayed home," he added, dismissing his previous confusion with a frown.

"Oh." Narcissa's cheeks were burning; she wished nothing more than to run from Rabastan by now – possibly after pointing out that he'd only been engaged _once_, and not to a Black. He really had no right, she thought angrily – no right to sweep into her perfect evening and make everything start sounding like a farce, no right to act as though she owed him anything. She did not. _He_ only had himself to blame.

"Don't look at me that way, Cissa," he told her, "We're family."

"Do not call me Cissa," she responded through gritted teeth. Her eyes leapt rapidly across the room, scanning faces to assess the level of attention she was receiving. A few young men looked like they very much wanted to be her next dance partner, and a couple of ladies had their eyes on her as well. She would have to give the impression that nothing unpleasant had happened at all when she parted from Rabastan – there was no way she could make a discreet escape. Anger at Bella's absence burned in her insides. Her sister's marriage was the one and only thing that remotely justified that Rabastan felt free to act so bold towards her, although it did not in any way make his behaviour acceptable. Bellatrix could at least have been there to make him back off from her little sister, the way herself would never dare. Bellatrix could at least have been there to attend Narcissa's first ball.

Their excuses were so feeble, each and every one of them.

The piece was finishing and Cissy firmly freed herself from Rabastan's arms, nodding to him with a forced smile before she swept on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. Purposefully, she fanned herself with her hand and headed straight for the buffet, where she picked a glass of light white wine that she sipped slowly, composing her face into a thoughtful expression. Hopefully people would wait a little before disturbing her, and she would have the time to take a seat next to a group and engage in a conversation in which she would only be required to laugh politely at the right moments and participate with a small remark once in a while. Yes, that sounded quite acceptable – feeling a little tired was so very normal after all of the pressure that had been laid upon her shoulders, after all. She had the right to at least a little of calm.

"Where are you planning to escape this time?" The voice took her completely off guard, coming unexpected from her side, and she very nearly sloshed the remains of her wine all over her dress. Whirling around wildly, she faced Lucius Malfoy, who was leaning slightly against the wide table with a glass of burgundy in his hand, his eyes intent on her.

"My apologies, I did not mean to startle you," he said at the same time as she blurted, "I do not know what you mean!", her voice much too fast and just a hint too loud not to betray how flustered she was. Heat rose, strong and searing, from her chest to her face. She simply could not embarrass herself in front of Lucius Malfoy!

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "perhaps I misinterpreted your intentions. It was simply my impression that you had the desire to get away a little, and I feared that we would all be deprived of our young hostess."

She managed to calm herself somewhat, either thanks to her own control or the appeasing undertone of his speech, but the way he had seen through her was still as alarming as it was bewildering. "And what is it that gave you that impression, pray tell?" she enquired. "I was merely enjoying a second of rest after all the dancing."

"Well, I have to admit that you struck me as being the type to run off when you are least expected to," he responded lightly. "You did it before. You were a guest at my family's manor then, if you remember…"

"Oh," she said, blushing again. The memory was quite clear in her mind; it had been the beginning of a youthful infatuation with the young Malfoy, for which her sisters had teased her mercilessly for several years. Things were different now, she told herself firmly. She was well over this, truly, and he could not make her lose control with his cool elegance and unsettling insight – he had never been aware of her feelings anyway.

"This is quite true," she spoke calmly, "but I should hope you do not usually judge everybody on their actions as a ten-year-old. I don't have a habit of fleeing from my responsibilities – and what's more, no siblings of mine are there to lure me away tonight –" she bit her tongue – "my sister left for her honeymoon in Italy, you see."

"Ah. The blame lies on the reckless sibling," he commented softly, "is it as a long-due revenge that you deserted her wedding as well, then? I saw nobody influence you at the time."

Annoyance, as well as a feeling of awkwardness, flared within Narcissa. "How very observant of you, Mr Malfoy," she snapped, "but you are wrong – again. I left to tend to my younger cousin."

"A good deed!" He smiled appreciatively. "The angel among the reckless, then. But I do not admit to being wrong easily, Miss Black. Tell me then, did you not wish to get away, right before I came to disturb you with my misplaced observations? Grace me with the truth – or how could I be enlightened?"

"If you deem that sitting down to avoid any further dancing for the moment is tantamount to getting away, why, I must plead guilty indeed," she shot back. "I was looking for a bit of calm."

Lucius Malfoy smirked. "Then I am so sorry for disturbing you," he replied lightly. "Unless you found yourself requiring, once more, a wicked influence to steal you out, it seems obvious that I have made a nuisance of myself." His smugness contradicted his words, and his steel grey eyes challenged hers in a way that made her feel distinctively off-balance.

"If there was any invitation to be found in this statement, I am afraid I must decline it," she answered though, fiercely proud of her still-steady voice, "but I do accept the apology regardless."

He smiled wider still. "Until next time, then," he said smoothly, and bowed his head to her before he walked away, sipping his drink.  
>Narcissa remained standing in the same spot, finding it difficult to comprehend what had just transpired between herself and Lucius Malfoy. In the mindless days of her youth his attention would have made her glow with rapture; now, however, his mysterious attitude unnerved her, and she could not seem to understand his motives. He would have needed no such step to merely approach her. It was as though he wanted something – as though he were assessing her… like his mother.<br>Narcissa slowly set down her empty glass and started looking for a seat. She hoped that mindless conversation would fill her head and prove to be a sufficient distraction; she had a feeling that she was otherwise in for a while of thinking herself in circles.


	6. Obsessions

**Here we go with chapter six! Named after the song by Marina and the Diamonds – check it out, it's delightful. Especially since I am now reluctantly respecting copyright rules and therefore cannot give credit to the songs I love by copying their lyrics. **

**While we are speaking about credit – something quite important to me: I wished to advertise the delightful story Shake It Out, by Mesteria. It is a Lucissa and a piece of greatness, which I am beta-reading, and the author is on my official list of Greatest People Ever. She's a star. You know you're a star, don't you? (Oh my, that qualifies as author/reader interaction – yes, you know it. I'm bad at following rules.) Back to the point: go check out this fic. Honestly – it'll be worth your while. **

**Now, about this chapter itself. You'll have to roughly remember the first chapter of Dustland Fairytale to truly get all of the second section, but I still believe most of it should be self-explanatory. At least I hope so – if you're doubtful about anything, ask in a review. Or, and we shall all pretend together that stargazer lilies haven't been created wayyyy after Cissy's teenage years. That's the kind of detail nobody cares about but me…**

**Oh, and don't kill me if my Lucius seems a bit too perfect in the end part. I legit saw the point when he would begin to sparkle under the sun =P -cringe- it won't be like that all along the fic. It's all in Cissy's dazed eyes, poor dear still has quite a bit of growing up to do. (Which she won't exactly be doing if my readers kill me…)**

**And with this, the rambling is DONE! -breathes- enjoy!**

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><p>He lay haphazardly sprawled across his bed, a foot dangling from the edge and his head leaned downwards, face half-hidden in shadow with his eyes tightly shut. Cissy took two seconds' pause, hovering by the door of the boys' dormitory, to realize that she'd missed him.<p>

Stepping over his trunk, carelessly dropped on the floor, she tip-toed over to him and lightly plopped down next to his head, her gaze flicking anxiously across the empty room before she eventually smiled. His lids lifted, irises glowing a greenish brown as they swept over her. He grunted something she mercifully interpreted as a greeting.

"Gentlemen say hello," she teased cheerfully, dainty fingers brushing against his hair.

"You left the gentlemen behind, thank Salazar," Travers muttered. "Be welcome, m'lady."

"You are impossible," she half-heartedly criticized. Still she yawned shamelessly and leaned into the headboard of his bed. "And I'm exhausted."

"Balls do that to someone, I've heard," he snickered.

"Don't sound so pleased about it… I just don't know how I'll make it to OWLs." She sighed dramatically.

"Easy. Just ask Daddy to have you married off before that."

"Are you finished?" she exclaimed. "I cannot help it if I've grown old enough to attend social events. Would you rather I'd remained a twelve-year-old?"

He smirked a little. "Not quite," he admitted, "there are advantages to your being… a proper little woman."

"Then be reasonable," she said firmly, with a tone of finality. She did not care to ask which advantages Travers found to her maturity – she was certain they would not be selfless, nor would they prove related to her actual spirit, in all likelihood. It was Travers and with him there was no need to pretend. Open. She frowned as she leaned back and attempted to relax. A flash of Lucius Malfoy's eyes, the softly mocking edge of his smirk briefly visited the forefront of her mind and she had to stare downwards at her boyfriend's face until the image of the other young bachelor would kindly fade away. The mystery of him had grown dangerously close to the lands of obsession, and she had no wish to indulge that state of things. Adrian stared back at her with an eyebrow half-raised.

"Met anyone interesting?" he pushed.

"Your best friend," she instinctively replied, "who hardly seemed interested in me at all."

Travers snorted. "Greengrass is a loyal one – to his mates, that is," he muttered. "What did you expect, that he would fall at your lovely feet?"

"Perhaps that he would actually stick around for a little chat, if he was that concerned with your interests, instead of taking off to leave me in the hands of Yaxley," she shot back. Purposefully, she had picked the name of the oldest and most handsome of her partners, to aggravate him as much as he aggravated her. Travers just shrugged, and reached upwards for her hand. She relinquished it.

"They're gentlemen, though," he murmured, "always the same." He shot a wink at her. "You do have a thing for special people, don't you Cissy? When you're in the mood to actually acknowledge it…"

"Some of them are special," she retorted defensively. _Some_. Only a handful of those people seemed to have personalities of their own. Her family… Rodolphus… the Malfoys. "You shouldn't be so smug… You just don't know them at all."

"Smug is what I'm like." She couldn't help but laugh. "I appreciate your lucidity," she told him seriously.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm lucid for two."

Narcissa didn't care to argue the point further than by a low murmur of disagreement. Travers toyed with her dainty fingers, and she pensively stared upwards, through the canopy into nothingness.

"Hey," he abruptly said, "I have something for you."

She started, taken aback. "For me?" she asked. "What for?"

He rolled his eyes. "Christmas, m'lady," he drawled mockingly. "Belatedly," he added, the corner of his mouth twisting sideways.

"Oh." Narcissa wasn't quite sure what to say; she just waited, until she realized that he appeared to do the same thing. "Well, may I see it?" she pushed.

Swiftly, Travers sat up and produced a package from his pocket. He held it in midair, waiting for her to seize it. Carefully, she did, and carefully she opened the parcel. Paper parted and box opened to reveal a silver hairclip, thin and delicate, with intricate, abstract shapes carved in patterns onto it. The thing was really quite pretty, and Cissy stared at it, dangling from her slim fingers casually, with some tightness in her throat. "It is exquisite," she said, "thank you."

"It's a trinket," he shot back, "Want me to put it on?"

She leaned her head and allowed him to slip the item into her fair hair. He slid his hand into the strands, light and smooth, coiling some around his fingers. She let him play, face turned downwards, palms half-open on her lap. Her breath slowed, then quickened again. His digits brushed her cheek.

"I have nothing for you," she uttered softly as he tilted her chin up. She thought he admired his handiwork, but his eyes preferred finding hers.

"Hush," he replied, and then simply kissed her.

She gave in to the feeling, being tightly held, feeling precious, wanted. Their lips moved together, their breaths mixed and her heart drummed quietly, steadily. His arm snaked around her waist. She tensed, then arched against him a little. They were alone.

"Cissy," he hissed a bit hoarsely, and something in her chest clenched.

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><p><em>Dear Bella, <em>

_I hope you are enjoying Italy. A bit of sunlight must feel so glorious! Here the weather is positively awful, quite disheartening really, though it is nothing but ordinary after all. Did you go sightseeing? I know you aren't big on old buildings and walking around, but still – surely Italy deserves to make an exception to your usual tastes. Besides, it is all very romantic. I hope to Merlin you aren't forgetting to take pictures – the family album needs them, obviously (or I should say the families'!), but besides, I want some for myself. You can do that for me, can't you? Ask Rodolphus if you really cannot be bothered. I hope your journey went all right… I do know that you take better to long-distance Portkeys than I do. Still. _

_Here things are rather quiet. Well, I guess quiet is not quite the correct word – usual would be more fitting. OWLs are slightly stressful, and I am really hoping to do well. Thankfully I can get a bit of help from my classmates. Oh, how did you ever survive this? The exams are but five months away and I already feel quite worried and restless._

_Do tell me more about your honeymoon! I cannot wait to hear from you again. Take pity on your poor overworked sister and write me back! _

_With all my love, _

_Narcissa._

Leaning against the door of the Owlery, Narcissa reread the piece of parchment she was clutching in her hand one last time. Her white fingers were still ink-stained from the wrathful strokes of the quill whenever she had crossed out a line that sounded awkward, overly accusative, inquisitive or divulging too much. After many a struggle, she had settled on diplomatic phrasings, refrained from expressing her utter frustration at the lack of news from her sister, understated her exam-related worries and advantageously replaced the one mentioning of Travers with the comparatively harmless term of "classmates". The letter was perfect and she was disgusted with it – terribly eager to have it off of her hands and on its way to Bella, sufficiently eager not to mind her dirty digits, yet not quite enough to spare her a final check that left a knot in her stomach. Her fingers curled around the handle of the door.

Courageously, she walked in. The whole room was filled with a rustle of wings and the ruckus of incessant hooting; it made her jolt and glance upwards quite frequently, despite her chief concern, which was of not stepping on anything filthy. Narcissa had never truly liked owls, though she would arrogantly state the contrary to anyone who asked. They were useful and well-behaved – the owls of good breeding that people of her standing used were, anyhow – and as such, she deemed them better than other pets; besides, there was an air of elegance about them that most animals lacked, or at least only displayed at moments. Technically, this _would_ make them her favourites. However, that state of facts, ever so rational, did not lessen the unnerved feeling she got when an owl stared at her, or the wariness with which she would touch the bird, afraid that its claw would suddenly tear at her hand or face. And as for the Owlery… one never ought to find themselves in contact with such a great number of animals anyway, Cissy thought angrily. They were messy, they were dirty – it was a house-elf's business to pick an owl to carry its master's mail, for no aristocrat should ever be confronted to such a place. Once more, Hogwarts' deficiencies were proved, displayed, blatantly obvious.

Halting her reflections, Narcissa resolved to pick one of the damned birds, send her missive and be done with it. She approached one reluctantly, and proceeded to tie the piece of parchment to its leg, pausing in fright whenever it stirred and the feathers brushed, soft, against the back of her hand. Finally, she stepped back and watched the animal fly away – only a few seconds, before she swept on her heel and swiftly departed.

Narcissa hurried back to her dormitory, willing to lie down and relax a little before dinnertime. She found the underground room empty, a fact that left her feeling thankful. She was in no mood for idle chatter – not that her dormmates would be much likely to engage her in any interaction of the sort. Still – she found herself desiring privacy.

Cissy crossed to the bed and tossed there the few books she had just picked from the common room, where she had left them previously to send her letter. She proceeded to get the items into her trunk or bag, according to whether she was done with them or would still need them shortly in order to get her homework finished; but as she seized her Charms manual, it started shaking most alarmingly, and she dropped it to the ground in shock.

Cissy knelt down, frowning. The book had opened as it fell and a glimpse of white and colour had slipped from the pages and caught her eye, teasing her with the sheer oddity of its presence. Rapidly, the girl picked book and parchment, threw the former into her trunk and held the latter firmly squeezed in her hand as she kicked off her shoes and climbed onto her bed, drawing the curtains shut. Mystified, she examined the flash of brightness that had first demanded her attention. It was a dried flower of a vivid pink hue, freckled with dark red and delicately paling on the edges. Her digits brushed the eerily soft petals, tracing shapes listlessly. She recalled the sight, the shade, the feeling and much more. _Stargazer lily_.

Narcissa picked the note next, curling her legs beneath her body and nervously brushing back a strand of hair as she leaned upon the message she had previously only glanced at. Short, the words with their elegant script seemed to taunt her somehow: _I should hope you still like these_.

Her fingers went back to the flower, stroked it carefully. She blinked, confused and unable to even define how she felt about the bewildering message. A great tiredness was making itself known again from deep within her, and she longed to just curl up and sleep, stop the questions in her mind, stop worrying about the right behaviour to adopt, stop feeling inadequate, stop fighting to learn and learn and always get better, just stop. Cissy lay on her side; the handwriting was so pretty – it was just a simple thing, such an easy, straightforward sentence even in its elegance. One piece of parchment, seven words, neat and precise, rational. And the flower – so soft – and the memories. She closed her eyes to memories of beauty, trying to grasp them – no – to keep them hovering, gently, over her, and to let go. Let go…

When Narcissa opened her eyes again, she was still half-curled up with her clothes on and the note beside her was crumpled after getting caught under one of her arms in her sleep. She felt cold and oddly aware, and she left the bed to start looking for a quill. She threw few words on a small piece of parchment, her heart drumming low against her ribs, before carefully folding it, slipping on her shoes and departing the dormitory.

The common room was full of people coming from or going to the Great Hall, joking, chatting or quarrelling, appearing utterly carefree – as far as a Slytherin could ever be carefree. Narcissa looked coolly from face to face, feeling distanced, light. A head turned and she met the clear grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy, suddenly, like one might hit a wall – and she whirled sharply on her heel, fleeing the sight of him. His gaze was on her back as she walked, with a doll's stiff step, over to an armchair and dropped the parchment on it. It fell from her listless fingers, floated downwards and then lay there. She hurried away and did not turn back.

The words circled and sung within her head, paced with the rhythm of her footsteps, in a thousand different tones, none of which seemed her own. _I do. Thank you_. Meaningless, ordinary terms, slipping perfectly naturally. No – something unnatural was there, something strong. Cissy walked in a daze through crowds of laughing, jostling students, all of them moving in the same direction. She felt hungry, she realized, a hunger from deep within her gut, dull and primal, calling out to be sated.

* * *

><p>The day looked iced over and pristine as she peered from the window, and it disturbingly reminded her of her sister's wedding. She drew back the curtains harshly, and chewed on her thumb, shifting from one foot to the other. Her eyes swept over her own form criticizingly: of course she could only wear black robes – with just little heels on her feet to boost her confidence – and <em>oh Merlin what was she doing<em>. In a week's time it had gone from _I do, thank you_ to accepting to take a walk – with _Lucius Malfoy_ – by _notes_! Her face burned at the mere thought – this wasn't the way things usually went – it was queer, and she couldn't make out what he wanted from her – possibly just to embarrass her. What if his whole dormitory had read her messages? But she hadn't sounded like a rambling fool, at any rate, Cissy told herself; she'd sounded like a proper, responsible lady, puzzled as she should by this most unsettling situation. _That is an impudent question – if you so desire – most interesting, sir_… Her own words flashed through her mind – proper indeed, aloof, even. It hadn't seemed to surprise him – he'd merely found it amusing. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was sending her secret notes, questioned her about her likings and invited her to take a walk with him. And she could not decline. Who would have declined?

The thought that it was him, actually him, made her legs tremble, panic spreading through her whole body. Notes were easier, they just didn't feel true, like a novel or a silly game. This was more, it would be more. She'd said yes; she'd said _if you so desire_ and Salazar, did she desire it – but she was scared, and they hadn't even agreed on a time and place…

She had to get to the common room. Narcissa walked in a daze, brushing past people she met on her way. She walked up to the ornate fireplace, and looked around slowly from there. Her gaze embraced the whole den in the dungeons. There he stood, by the wall that concealed the entrance, staring straight at her. She stared back steadily, shaking inside. He smirked and swiftly swept out.

She counted twenty seconds in her head, breathing deeply, before she followed.

He waited in the corridor a small ways away, half-turned towards her. His hair glowed faintly in the light of the torches that were lighting up the castle, and his face looked flawlessly pale and smooth against it, his whole being moulded from smoothness and confidence, terrible in his beauty and his control. Narcissa could hardly look at him. She felt like she had known about him forever, and yet he had never truly been a reality in her life. He was real at this moment though, tremendously so – nearly more, it seemed, than she could bear. He was Lucius Malfoy and she had to be someone, too – but she couldn't seem to play the old game, to find, somehow, the masks she'd been practising for so long.

"Mr Malfoy," she murmured, her voice catching.

"Miss Black," he replied coolly, "Narcissa." His voice started low around her name, deep and low in his throat before hissingly caressing the last syllables. She blinked rapidly and drew herself up, getting a grip again. This wouldn't do – this wouldn't do at all.

"Shall we?" he enquired, tilting his head towards the corridor, and she nodded; her legs moved, and they were walking together, he and she, without another word.

As they strode on Narcissa was eerily aware of the holes and shadows hiding between her bones, her body so disjointed and doll-like, and the chilly air blowing right through her. She felt quite unreal, and yet her limbs were moving, her hair brushing against her shoulders and back. And once more, she was aware of how real Lucius Malfoy was, how definite. A few notes hadn't prepared her to this allure of his, the two of them alone.

They had reached the Entrance Hall and Lucius gestured for her, with a little bow of his head, to lead the way. Cissy stepped outside into the dry and icy air. The sun was shining finely overhead, in a sky that stretched limpid blue all around them. In the natural light, Lucius appeared simpler and thoughtful and Narcissa cursed herself for overreacting. He might be an elegant, intelligent young gentleman with mysterious ways and an imposing presence, but she was a Black, a young lady and she strove for perfection. She had nothing to fear from him, certainly not inferiority – as long as she didn't forget herself. Still she averted her eyes.

They walked in silence in the park for a small while, before Lucius eventually turned her way, smiling a wry, but genial smile. "Narcissa Black," he said softly, "so you like walks, beautiful flowers, reading, sunlight, and dancing…" She found herself blushing at his slow, pensive tone. And she thought she'd been silly, responding to his notes, answering his questions, even to divulge small, harmless bits of information, even warily and slightly haughtily. A little girl, caught in a game.

"Yes, indeed," she said a bit bitingly, "though I fail to see how this could interest you."

The corner of his mouth stretched a little further upwards, amused. "Well, I answered first, as you seemed reluctant," he remarked. "I said I liked evenings by the fire, the feel of magic, leathered books, politics and chocolate. Did it interest you?"

Something deep within her longed to lie. "Somewhat," she admitted. She turned on him. "Do you realize how queer this all is? You come to me at a ball and accuse me of running away. Then you leave me a note and – a flower –" she faltered there, "and you enquire about my likings, and upon my mentioning walks, invite me to one. What sense does this make? It's hardly proper."

"It's hardly improper," he countered, "and why – I was intrigued, I merely sought to get to know you."

"By notes?" she pushed, puzzled.

Once more that smile, small and amused. "Well, it certainly did get your attention."

She could not deny that. They walked on and his words slowly sank in. He wished to get to know her. She peered at his pale face, his grey eyes and he stared back calmly, smiling at her again, serene. A curious feeling spread over Narcissa. She wanted to keep on gazing at his face, taking in his bearing and his elegance, and yet she feared his looking at her. It was like he saw right down to the bottom of her, the emptiness there that sought façades of perfection. One gaze and he would know her, he would turn away knowing. A little already, he knew. But he was smiling still, not a mocking smile.

"You have odd ways, Lucius Malfoy," she said slowly.

He had a small laugh. "Yes," he agreed, considering. "And do you think I can afford them?" He was unsettlingly honest, and she found herself blurting: "You could afford anything."

This time, he laughed frankly. She cringed inside, hating to display how deeply he impressed her, in ways she didn't quite comprehend. They were circling around the lake, slowly heading back to the castle. Narcissa absorbed herself in staring into the deep waters. They lay beautiful and profound, a different universe that never seemed to end, the unknown. Her mouth twitched a little, and she turned back his way, willing to face him, to look into his eyes as though she were fearless. Defiant, she stared and he held her gaze quietly. They were getting back, step after tiny step. She didn't know if she wanted to leave him.

"So – did you get what you were hoping for?" she enquired, endeavouring to make her tone careless.

He nodded. "Somewhat." The corner of his mouth slightly lifted up again. "Do you really mind the notes?"

"They unsettle me," she confessed with slight arrogance, knowing that she stood for usual, accepted behaviour and the common proprieties. "You will have to admit that it is quite odd."

"Oh, I will," he shot back, "in return, would you indulge me for a bit longer?"

She turned on him a puzzled look. "What for?"

He shrugged. "Just so you don't forget me?" he offered.

Narcissa considered. Obviously she was not getting anything further than cryptic responses from him. But he wanted her to remember. Her lungs tightened. Not that she would have forgotten.

"All right," she spoke airily. A few more strides, and they would reach the castle's doors. And she knew now that she didn't want to. He had told her nothing at all, and he would slip from her grasp – not that he'd ever truly been there to begin with.

Lucius Malfoy paused before the great double doors. "Miss Black," he spoke with a softness that contradicted the formal address, "it was a pleasure."

Snatching up her hand, he laid a fleeing kiss on the back of it, just barely brushing his lips against her fair skin – and then he straightened up, and held the doors open for her.

They stepped back into Hogwarts, and with a last, slight smile her way, he disappeared into the corridors.


	7. Volatile Times

**Here's the seventh chapter! This is just as long as Dustland now – but no worries, it's not stopping here ;) **

**The Vanishing curse theory comes partly from various Harry Potter Internet pages, and partly from my own brain – I tweaked it around so it would fit what I wanted to evoke, lol. Besides, chapter title is from the IAMX song and… that's all I have to say for now =) enjoy!**

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><p>"No, no, NO!"<p>

Narcissa let out a short, shrill scream of frustration. Angrily, she pressed her fingers to her forehead, glaring at the little mouse she'd been practising on; instead of kindly _vanishing_, which really wasn't that difficult a task, if you think about it, the stupid animal, curled into a ball, was shaking in a rather concerning manner. She could have felt sorry for the tiny thing, in a way, _maybe_, if it hadn't been both a blatant proof of her own deficiency, and a courtesy of McGonagall – yet another recipient for her overwhelming suppressed aggressivity. As she watched, the light brown fur slowly started smoking, and the rodent stirred and began running in circles, emitting a panicked and rather nerve-wracking squeaking sound. Well, it could sense the fury radiating from her, it seemed. Her magic couldn't be _that_ out of control. It really couldn't.

Travers punched the wall.

"What the devil are you thinking of? The dress you wore yesterday?"

"_You _are rubbish at explaining!" Narcissa snapped, enraged. A migraine was slowly building, throbbing in her temples, and she hardly cared about being fair any longer. Most of all, she was furious because of her repeated failure, humiliated and anxious and frustrated and _she had to blame someone_.

"Yeah right," Travers snorted. "Honestly! I've been helping you out for weeks, months even, and you get more hopeless by the hour. You were decent when the year started, quite good even, now it seems like your brain started self-destructing."

"_You_ are being horrible and _you_ make it impossible to concentrate with your pointless and aggressive comments," Cissy growled, "_and you are not explaining well_."

"Right." He breathed deeply through his nose. "I spelled it out to you four times, the theoretical approach, the parallel approach, the step-by-step method and nearly bloody drawing you a diagram. What more is there? Should I hold your wand while I'm at it, or perhaps you need a fanclub to cheer you on? A house-elf at your beck and call? A choir chanting spell names to set the mood? What is it you need, please enlighten me. I'm desperate to know."

"Stop being vicious!" Cissy screeched, utterly at her wits' end. Her eyes scanned the room for a chair in which she might dramatically collapse, but the furniture had all been pushed against the walls; she ended up sinking to the ground exhaustedly, only to find herself fussing over the dust that her robes were sure to gather.

Merciless, Travers glared down at her from his standing position, his wand rigid in his taut fist. To be fair, Narcissa _had_ begged him for help, _had_ dragged him here time and time again to practise, and _had_ ended up blaming her failure on him. To hell with fairness, the girl brooded as she gave her boyfriend the evil eye right back. He'd been supposed to assist her – his explanations hadn't made anything clearer at all, and his frustration, that became more obvious by the minute, made her feel like a dolt – a dolt under pressure at that. "You may go," she told him haughtily.

"I may go?" he repeated incredulously. "Why, thank you, dearie, but I'm not your bloody house-elf. You can't just treat me like _this_."

"Where I was brought up, one says 'You may go' to people," she corrected him in an icy tone. "Elves obey on gestures or sharper orders, and should they fail to comprehend, a curse does the job as well." Of course she would never lower herself so far as to curse her frustrations out on a house-elf. Still.

"Oh, but I am _delighted_ to hear that," Travers snarled. "Unfortunately, it doesn't change anything to the issue of you patronizing me. Though don't get me wrong, I am overjoyed to hear that you do consider me as a human being. Then again, I'd like to see you try to curse me, so I suppose this explains that. I don't even know why I'm wasting my time with you… I shall go indeed – good luck with the practising, and don't fling yourself from the window in rage. Oh wait, how's that my business?"

His rant finished, he turned his back on her, leaving Cissy hovering between guilt and wrath. "I'll go back, too," she called to the nape of his neck, rising from the floor. "This is really useless."

The slamming of the door was his only response.

Narcissa sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly. Now her eyes were starting to sting, and she bit her lip hard, fiercely refusing to just give in and _cry_. This was ludicrous – she would end up managing somehow, and it would be all right. Picking up her wand, which she had left on the floor, she stalked to the exit and headed back to the common room, her jaw tightly set.

There was no sign of Travers anywhere when she arrived. Relieved, and yet even more flustered somehow, Cissy headed for the table where she had left her things. Her boyfriend's were gone, anyway – he was probably off sulking somewhere, with Greengrass, perhaps. Narcissa found her heart beating a bit faster as she gathered her books, a nervous, edgy expectation spreading through her whole body, forming knots in her stomach, burning up to her forehead and tingling till her toes. Her fingers trembled, moving hastily – there it was, a small piece of parchment, neatly folded and innocent-looking. She stuffed it into her pocket.

Once she had retreated to the relative calmness of her dormitory, Narcissa hovered for a while, made reluctant to read her note by the other girls' presence. Cassandra was writing a letter, and appeared superbly oblivious to her, as she had for nearly six months now; however, it still left her unnerved to have her quite perceptive former best friend in the periphery of her vision. Worse still, Alcyone was holding a salon around her bed with her airheaded cronies. So much for intimacy, Cissy thought, fussing over her bag hopelessly. Of course there was still the possibility of retreating to her canopy, curtains drawn, to read the note, but this was simply obvious and she was positive Alcyone would come up with some pretext to disturb her. There seemed to be no way she could safely discover the contents of Lucius' message to her, as she wasn't just about to flee to a bathroom stall for that purpose. Unless… Of course. The library.

Narcissa nearly flew across the castle, settling in a secluded corner and artfully spreading books and pieces of parchment on the table in front of her until she was positive that she would be able to rapidly conceal the true object of her focus if anybody happened to come too near. This being done, she took out, at long last, Lucius' note, which she unfolded and smoothed over neatly, enjoying the feeling of expectation. Missive after missive, she had found her reticences dwindling down almost to nothingness, and by that point she couldn't quite pretend anymore that she hadn't grown terribly fond of this odd way of interaction.

She liked his penmanship, neat and elegant without being overly fancy. She liked the unsettling simplicity with which he spoke of himself and inquired about her; finally, she could feel that they communicated on equal grounds, contrary to her previous anxieties of ridiculing herself. A bond was creating, slowly. Lucius told her about the languages he spoke and the countries he found interesting; they had evoked France and the French before, her passion for refinement and decoration – they had discussed several subjects, so smoothly that it all felt like a thrilling blur to her, that swept her away from everything.

Up above in the regular Hogwarts world, someone cleared their throat quietly. Narcissa violently jumped, her hands flying to shield the note; so taken had she been in her reading that the approach of somebody had gone quite unnoticed – somebody who now stood but a few feet away, calmly smiling down at her. Her fear eased briefly before nervousness took over again. It was Lucius.

"Hello," he said pleasantly and she braced herself to respond without stuttering. "Hello!" she managed, and his smile widened ever-so-slightly.

"I was just leaving when I saw you sitting there," he told her lightly, "I thought I would greet you." He nodded to her books. "I should hope I am not distracting you too much with my desire for correspondence. OWLs year is a difficult time to go through."

"Oh, that is quite all right," Narcissa found herself replying breezily, "I am not too worried… I've been doing fine. Everything should go quite well."

"I wouldn't doubt that." The gleam of his eyes made her giddy. Narcissa willed her brain to function suitably. "I won't bother you too much – I was on my way out." He paused. "Just for your personal knowledge, your boyfriend is out at the back near the Restricted Section, working like a fiend." He bowed his head to her. "Have a good day."

"You too," she stammered under her breath, taken off guard.

* * *

><p><em>Dearest sister, <em>

_I've long come home with Rodolphus. Indeed, we had marvelous weather – I'm sure you would have been amazed – and Italy was pretty. It was also pretty uneventful. But never mind – we're back. The journey went well. Everything did. I was bored silly._

_I am actually quite busy now – the life of newlyweds is a thrilling one, you just can't imagine how much. Rod and I settled in, and everything's going smoothly now. _

_I don't really have much more to tell you – actually, I have to go. Oh, and don't worry about OWLs, silly. People go through that each year, and as far as I know, there's been no deaths in Hogwarts yet._

_With love, _

_Bella._

_PS: I have no idea about the pictures – you know I have that knack for conveniently forgetting the things I find despairingly tedious. Ask Rod if you're so desperate._

"I just can't believe this," Narcissa snarled. "I can't believe it! I simply can't!" She rounded on Travers, who was writing rapidly and not looking at her. Not letting that unsettling detail stop her, she vented on: "Honestly! Is it me being mad or unreasonable, or is she just being…!"

No qualifier would fit. Cissy waited for Travers to suggest one, and was quickly disappointed. "Come on," she growled. "What was _that_? She's busy! Too busy to talk to me! She just complained about being bored! It doesn't make _sense _and she's just… ugh!" Narcissa had a sharp intake of breath, struggling to keep her voice low enough not to draw a crowd. "_Say something_."

"Shut the hell up," he replied right on cue, as though in a knee-jerk reaction.

Narcissa gasped. "_What did you just say?_" she demanded. Her hands were shaking as they kneaded the letter, ready to tear it to pieces.

At long last, slowly, Travers looked up. "Cissy, I said shut up," he responded dangerously. "You spent months whining about your sister not writing back, and now that she did, you're upset because she doesn't care to correspond. Couldn't you figure that out long ago? She's busy. You always said she was bad at letters. Suck it up and throw your hissy fit when you next see her. _I_ did nothing and I've had enough."

He went back to his book, then paused again. "Oh, and in case you need a reminder, _you_ begged me to work with you, again. So don't you just tell me I can go away if I so please."

Cissy was speechless. She remained quiet for a few minutes, then leaned forward. "So you think that's normal?" she asked. "You think I should just accept that she's got nothing to say to me? That she's _bored_, and taking it out on me?"

The look Travers shot her next was close to pitying. "Cissy, your sister has things going on – things she doesn't want to tell you about," he told her. "That's perfectly obvious, from everything you've told me. And you know it. You've known for a long time – you just prefer pretending you don't notice."

Narcissa felt dizzy. It was like Travers had just drawn back the veil to something dark and dangerous lurking deep. _Secrets_. The letter tore quietly under her fingers, tortured paper moaning low. She paid it no mind.

"I'll ask when I next see her," she murmured, lips numb. _But she would deny, deny everything_. "It won't be at Easter, though," she added, struggling to get a grip again. "I'm not going home then. I've got work to do – practise. I have to think about myself."

"Sure thing," Travers muttered under his breath. Then he looked up. "That'll be without me, by the way."

"I'm sorry?" Cissy responded, dumbstruck.

"I'll be going home this time, for the holidays," he clarified. "I need to escape the castle… and the pre-OWLs hysteria."

"Abandon me, why don't you!"

Travers stared her down. "No offense, Cissy, but I think I will. You've been quite crazed lately and I honestly need a break if I am to stand you till June without wringing your throat."

Narcissa tried to find the words to convey her shock, to little avail. "I see," she eventually spoke. "Fine. Be that way."

"Don't guilt-trip me," he warned her. "I'm your boyfriend, not your personal tutor. If you think there's a chance you might chill a little and stop being a nervous wreck, you can come along, you're invited. If not… well, stay here and practise."

"I think I'll do just that," she shot back icily. Standing up, she started hastily gathering her things. If he thought that she needed him, he was quite mistaken. "Even if I felt any liking for the idea, that would hardly be proper behaviour."

Travers had a low, bitter laugh. "Fine. Be that way," he quoted darkly.

Narcissa strode away, not quite knowing where she was going. On her way to her dormitory, she got a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy. Sitting with his friends near the fireplace, he seemed oblivious to her presence. But as she was about to disappear into the lower levels, he briefly glanced up and met her gaze, just for one second.

Alone in the empty room, Cissy dropped her things on her bed and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill.

_Would you mind if I asked for a bit of help?_ she scribbled.

* * *

><p>"So," he said, "the Vanishing curse?"<p>

Narcissa nodded, slightly unsure. It felt odd to be standing in a classroom with Lucius Malfoy, especially the same classroom she had been practising in with Travers previously. "Yes, that's the one," she told him. "I can't seem to master it." She bit her lip in shame.

"I see," he commented lightly. "And having McGonagall watching you like a hawk must not be helpful at all, I expect."

Cissy bobbed her head, slightly more at ease. "_Really, Miss Black, if you would only focus!_" she mimicked. "I am quite sure she hates me. I have no idea why – certainly, I am better at Charms, but it is still utterly unfair."

"I doubt you are to blame for McGonagall's whims and dislikes," he said smoothly, and Cissy allowed herself a daring little smile. "Now, the curse," he began. "It is a subtle one, no doubt. Understanding the theory is very important if you are to master it, and yet in itself it won't suffice – you have to _feel_ it, and channel your magic accordingly."

Narcissa chewed on her lower lip, reminded of Travers. "_Feel_ it," she repeated docilely. "I understand."

The corner of Lucius' mouth curved upwards a little. "Vanishing," he continued, "is not as straightforward as simply transfiguring. You do not simply shift the form – you will it into oblivion. You must focus on it, fully take it in with your mind and magic, and then let it go."

He paused, letting his words sink in. Narcissa produced another slow, pensive nod. It was nothing she hadn't heard before, what he told her, and yet nothing the same. His eloquence took abstract magical theory and moulded it into something that sounded beautiful and strangely obvious. It provoked no actual epiphany in her thus far, however.

"You've seen others vanish objects, and you've certainly done it yourself." He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," she hurriedly agreed. "Objects are all right. It is merely animals."

"All right, so the act of vanishing in itself is not a problem. It is the target." He paused again. "How much have you achieved while practising before?"

"I managed snails once or twice, but it would never work sustainedly," she explained. "Mice – not once."

He acquiesced. "What do you think happens to the vanished mice, Narcissa?"

Panic flared within her. "I–I don't know," she stammered, "they disappear."

"Calm down," he told her, "I'm not going to think you are stupid. Let me help." She took a deep breath. "They are beings. What becomes of them?"

"Non-beings," she tried. He smiled at her.

"Very good. Now, you are required to send living objects lapsing into non-being. That is to say, into oblivion. They say that vanished things always reappear sometime, somewhere. They fall back from non-being into our reality." He paused again, looking into her eyes. "You are going to have to take this little mouse, and make it slide all the way into nothingness."

There were two beats of silence. Narcissa pondered and Lucius let her, waiting calmly. Then he went on, "Have you ever experienced anything that evokes the notion of oblivion to you, Narcissa?"

Unvoluntarily, she started. Oblivion. Non-being, emptiness, vacuity. Something gave a hollow vibration deep in the core of her being, where pretences fell away and she was nothing at all. Cissy blinked, suddenly panicked. No. It couldn't be the same. _A gaping hole, trapped in a brittle cage of bones_.

"Narcissa?"

Lucius was gazing at her, coolly, expectantly. He thought she was thrown because she didn't understand, not that she _knew_ so keenly. He wished to help, not to assess her, he had agreed so selflessly. And yet even as he seemed to behave in an open and harmless way, there was something within her that screamed of a threat. The fear that he would come too close, and it would hurt _so very badly_ when he ended up leaving again.

"I think I see," she spoke through cold, numb lips.

"That's good," he commented politely. "In fact, you need to get in touch with the very thought of non-being. Will your target to disappear, not merely from your sight, not only because OWLs are coming soon or because you risk having points deduced if you fail – but because it _must_ fall into nothingness, cease to be… until the universe sees fit to claim it again."

"I think I can do it," Narcissa murmured. Lucius appeared surprised, but pleased. He smiled and she looked right through him. She could feel it in her hands, in her legs, in her bones. Deep, ringing emptiness. She could not let him see.

"Try it then," he suggested. "Go on. If it doesn't work, we can think some more about the theory, or I will show you."

Narcissa raised her wand, the gesture swift and precise. She aimed it at the mouse McGonagall had left in for practising students. Despite the teacher's threats, destined to prevent any temptation of playing funny with the animal, the poor rodent had certainly been handled more than roughly in the recent past – at least she hadn't been the only one that this curse frustrated to death, noted a distant fraction of her brain – and it stared up at her with frightened, pitiful eyes. Her fingers tightened. It was nothing, it belonged in nothingness.

"_Evanesco_," she spoke, the syllables falling smoothly from her tongue.

She could see the mouse, feel the mouse, small and alive and insignificant, and she could feel what it was to disappear, what it truly must have felt like. This was it, what she hadn't grasped before. She'd been struggling for the place where she should focus, the aimed-at and longed-for obvious concrete result – from one form of being into another –, growing increasingly flustered as the lack of any such thing made itself clearer and clearer. And while she'd fought, while she'd clung to what she saw and what she knew, she'd let the unknown and the elusive fly from between her fingers, she would never have got it right. There was the void, and she was meant to tumble there, release her magic and create decreation – create loss, with living flesh and the simple, blind strength of her spirit.

"Narcissa!"

There was a hand, around her arm, and it was hard, and it was warm. She felt dizzy. Narcissa opened eyes she couldn't recall closing, blinked, breathed out. Lucius was standing too close. He handled her like a doll, guided her to a chair and forced her to sit, and Cissy understood that he had thought she would pass out. Maybe she would have, she pondered, rubbing her arms absent-mindedly. It hadn't felt like usual. It'd felt like it was what she was going for. What her body wanted, what her magic dictated. Not giving way, embracing.

"Narcissa."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she mumbled. "Did I succeed?" She looked, peered over Lucius' shoulder. The mouse twitched, she could hear its tiny cries now. It had fallen in an odd posture. Two legs flailed, the others were missing. Nausea rose from within her.

"You did well," Lucius said quickly, "quite well. For a first attempt – after failing the curse for so long – that's impressive, actually." He hadn't let go of her arms yet. He stood above her and leaned in close, watchful. Cissy took slow, deep breaths.

"I'll try again," she uttered. He nodded vaguely.

"Just… wait two minutes," he warned as he straightened up. He seemed quite unsettled and confused, yet he shook his head under her gaze, as though to clear it and get a grip again. Narcissa obediently took another moment's pause before she got to her feet.

"Ready," she muttered. Lucius rapidly vanished her unfortunate guinea pig and went to fetch another from McGonagall's box.

Again and again Narcissa raised her wand, murmured the spell, channelled her magic and then let it go freely. Her temples buzzed, her head throbbed, the mice squeaked and Lucius stood three steps away, watchful. They disappeared, vanished into thin air. The edges of her vision became blurry and faraway. There was nothing but the mice, and the hole, the one-way path into non-being. She pushed her way towards it, into it.

"That's enough," Lucius intervened, "you've managed it, Narcissa."

She turned in his direction. He walked closer slowly, warily. "Well," he spoke again, "it was only a matter of comprehending the curse, after all."

"Thank you," she uttered, remembering that might have been the polite thing to say.

"I did little," he replied dryly, "not quite what I expected."

He was staring fixedly at her now, and it felt quite unnerving. "I'm sorry I bothered you, then," she attempted. He shook his head. Wrong again. Cissy wished she could go back and undo whatever had gone wrong. Make it fall into oblivion, too. There was a lot of vacuity, all of a sudden. It was not satisfied with dwelling in the pit of her any longer, it spread to the shadows of the room, to the slight frown line on Lucius' pale forehead, the edge of his mouth. It was everywhere and it was addictive, like looking down from some great height. Oh, the quiet commanding pull of the emptiness, calling to her, reeling her in.

"Why don't people do this all the time?" she blurted.

Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Cissy felt her cheeks blaze aflame. Why had she asked this? She desperately wished she'd be able to backtrack, but he had his steady gaze trained on her, and it would look even more bizarre if she lied now – he could imagine Salazar knew what, then…

"Well," she fumbled, "the… vanishing things." She trailed off, peering up hopefully. He was not looking enlightened at all. "Yes, and?" he prompted.

And to think she could have sworn it would be impossible to get any redder. "It feels addictive," she said. "Sort of. Doesn't it?" She chewed nervously on her lower lip.

"Why, I hadn't seen it this way." At least he did not sound like he now believed she belonged in some sort of special St. Mungo's ward for the mentally challenged. He appeared thoughtful, and his stare level with a slightly inquisitive edge. "It certainly seems to have shaken you greatly."

"How so?" she tried. She was met with a puzzled stare; his eyebrows raised a bit higher and she cringed inside. Trying to pretend that things were entirely normal was evidently no suitable strategy.

"You looked ready to pass out," he remarked pointedly. "I'd never seen anybody snap from utter lack of understanding to intense focus so rapidly before. It was like a wall had gone down in your head."

"Well," she mumbled, "it suddenly seemed clear. You're a good teacher."

"You're a good student," he replied. Narcissa looked down.

"I'm afraid I must be off," he spoke again after a short while. "I have quite a lot of things to do, actually. Do not hesitate if you ever need a hand again, though."

"Yes," she agreed, "I'll write you." Her own open reference to their outlandish style of communication made her feel rather awkward, but Lucius appeared unbothered. "Indeed," he said lightly. "We will be in touch, but you might be busy, so… Good luck with your OWLs."

He smiled pleasantly. "And anyway, I shall see a lot of you in the summer."

She blinked, and something twisted in her chest. The sensation was not unpleasant – quite far from it, actually. The notion of Lucius coming and going in her life seemed uncanny and natural, dangerous and delightful all at the same time. She stored it in a corner of her mind to be dealt with later. "Yes," she agreed in a small voice, "see you in the summer."

Smiling, he departed, and Cissy stood in the room alone, with the idea of the vanished mice hanging in the air she breathed, like the doorway to non-being. She raised her wand, and stared at it numbly. Then she swept around and ran from the classroom, her heart roaring in her frail chest.


	8. Bad girls

**Here is the eighth chapter, named after the song by MIA… And eventually I reached the end of Cissy's fifth year, took me long enough! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Oh, hello, Narcissa! How are you?"<p>

Cissy turned slowly, raising an eyebrow. She didn't trust Alcyone's voice, high and sickly sweet, nor her innocent face – nor, to be honest, any part of her being at all. The girl was expecting her answer, a huge and ever so smug smile on her face, and her best friends, Smith and Stevens, stood behind her in the darkness of the dormitory like a vague threat – or rather a means of intimidation. Fury flared within Narcissa, piercing through the tiredness. She was a Black. She would _not_ be intimidated.

"Good evening, Alcyone," she said stiffly. "I am quite well, thanks. Yourself?" She forced the last word out, though it tasted sour on her tongue.

"I'm very good, thank you," the girl crooned. "So very happy with Cadmus, as always. It's been _months_ and I still wonder at his perfection." She grinned, eyes glinting. "Oh, by the way, I noticed Travers hasn't been looking too joyful these days," she added with fake concern.

"Why, that's lovely of you, but your overwhelming sweetness makes you more worried than required," Narcissa replied shortly, turning away. "That, or you failed to look around and notice that everybody's been quite tense as of late, what with OWLs coming closer."

"I can't imagine Travers being fidgety about OWLs," Alcyone carried on pensively. "You would, of course. But he… no, he seems to be the confident type. Or maybe he's got reasons to lose part of his airs." She paused for effect. Narcissa had a bad feeling about what was to come next, a gnawing nervousness which made her stomach twist and her hands tremble slightly, yet she forced herself to keep going, ordering her things as though nothing were wrong at all. Turning her head, she met Cassie's eyes inadvertently, from where her former friend sat on her bed, motionless. Rapidly, she turned away.

"Don't you think, Cissy?" Alcyone pushed. "After all, you've been so elusive lately…"

She paused again, watching for the other girl's reaction. Narcissa stiffened and tossed her a glance over her shoulder. "Whatever do you mean?" she inquired icily.

"Oh, Cissy," Alcyone purred, and Cissy very much longed to remind her that she had _not_ received permission to use her nickname, not ever. "Well, you're often _off somewhere_, aren't you now? Receiving notes… sneaking around, meeting boys in classrooms when your boyfriend is home…"

Narcissa's cheeks were burning. "I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered. Clearly this would not fool anyone.

"Oh dear." Alcyone was wickedly enjoying herself. "It is quite clear that you are cheating on your boyfriend. The question is, why all the dissimulation? One might think it would be quite easy for you to do better than Adrian Travers, after all… Unless…" She had a dramatic intake of breath. "Unless it's a _Mudblood _you've been seeing behind our backs, darling…"

Narcissa swirled around. Rage and panic were taking over her, enshrouding every other thought. "How dare you!" she snarled, her whole being recoiling from the cursed word – _Mudblood-Mudblood-Mudblood_ –, the insult, and the memories.

"Oh, maybe it's not really a serious thing," Alcyone drawled. "I wouldn't be surprised… You Black sisters like messing about, don't you? Always strolling around with your beauty and all of those dirty little secrets hidden underneath, always cheating and lying…" She had a tinkling little laugh. "Oh, but of course – it must be your father's fault, the deception runs in the blood!"

And blood roared in Narcissa's temples as she threw herself forward impulsively, in a blind bout of desperation. The dormitory echoed with alarmed screams. "No!" Cassandra shouted, and Alcyone and her cronies shrieked in unison.

Narcissa felt Alcyone's shoulders, warm and round under her claw-rigid hands, and the girl thrashed to break free from her tight, enraged grasp. Cissy shook her hard, once, then twice, craving to do more, to tear her apart. "Don't you _dare_ talk about my family _ever again_!" she screeched.

"Release me!"

Cissy did so, pushing the other girl away from her roughly, and Alcyone stumbled backwards. When she straightened up again, her face was a livid mask.

"You bitch," she growled. "You crazy, frantic _bitch_. I'm going to have you expelled for this, I swear."

"I did nothing to you," Narcissa hissed in response. The utter thoughtlessness of her move was beginning to dawn on her, and she fought to keep the distress and alarm out of her voice.

"It's been three times," Alcyone told her. "You assaulted me three times. Everyone in this room can bear witness. I hadn't even reported you. But now, believe me, I will." The girl's eyes were blazing. "You are a lunatic, Narcissa. You play the perfect little lady, so _in control_, but you're just a wild, crazy whore who lashes out when she's feeling threatened. You and your sisters, all lunatics, the lot of you."

"My sisters have never cheated on anyone," Cissy said numbly, "and neither have I." She didn't know how to defend herself further. Frenzy was still reigning, running in her veins, painfully reined in.

Alcyone laughed shrilly. "Stop it!" she exclaimed. "Your slut of a sister attempted to kiss Kingsley Shacklebolt the other day! The Head Boy, that's right! Poor one, he tried to deny it, chivalrous being that he is – but I _saw them_, and she was positively throwing herself at him! Not so happy in her brand-new filthy home, is she?" She cackled gleefully, carried away with joy at Narcissa's shock. "Perhaps she was hoping she could get her hands on a blood traitor instead, but it doesn't work like that, oh no! How she must regret breaking Rabastan Lestrange's heart! And now everyone can see that Rodolphus gets more miserable by the day, too. Poor, stupid Lestrange boys, falling for the vixens!"

Cissy's head was reeling. "You're lying," she murmured. "You're lying."

"Oh no, Narcissa," Alcyone purred. "It is you who don't want to see the truth, darling. But the truth will come out, I assure you." She eyed her with hatred. "I will make sure of it."

Narcissa slapped her. She heard the screams of shock and outrage as she whirled around, nearly ran into Cassie, who had stepped closer, eyes alarmed and hands extended as though to restrain her, ducked around her and Alcyone's friends and dashed away. Her pale feet were soundless against the icy flagstones of the stairs. She was a shadow skidding in her indigo nightgown, her hair flying.

She was halfway across the common room, mercifully empty at this hour, when reality came crashing down on her. Alone in the corridors, out of hours, barefoot and dishevelled – was she looking crazy? Was she going out of control? She stood frozen there, nearly at the door. It was so quiet – no one came running after her – quiet enough that her ears registered the low intake of breath from behind. Eventually, it reached her conscious mind.

Very slowly, she turned around. At first she only saw darkness. The fire was dying in the hearth, the windows that looked underwater suffused the room with a greenish glow. There was a silhouette, very still, in one of the armchairs. Cissy's feet carried her forward.

The purple nightgown was familiar. She had purchased it herself, a gift. Narcissa stared wordlessly at the shapes and convolutions sketched across the fabric, never at her sister's face. Andromeda's hands were thin and white, tense – they clenched and unclenched slowly, restlessly. She could hear her ragged breathing. It was distant and foreign like the currents outside, pressing against the glass, deep and near and yet untouchable.

Andromeda wanted to speak, quite obviously, but nothing seemed to come out. Narcissa rather preferred it that way. She simply stood there, in the silent forbidden presence of her sibling, and wondered at her own lack of rage, pain or any violent emotion. It was as though anything of the sort had been absorbed by her initial state of disarray, and the feelings had balanced out into some kind of numbness. All the better, maybe.

"It's late." Andromeda's voice was soft and hoarse, incredibly familiar after all this time. "Are you all right?"

Narcissa felt no necessity to reply. The question was utterly irrelevant, asked tentatively, more as a statement than an enquiry. A statement of what, though – concern, or a surviving right to express it? The hope of a bond, persisting still? She couldn't tell, or maybe she could, and merely didn't care to. She stood wordless and motionless, and Meda sighed low.

"I'm sorry," she uttered next. Now that made Cissy blink. _Was she, really? _

"Cissy, say something," Andromeda pleaded.

"What would you have me say?"

"Something. Anything."

The silence stretched on. Narcissa stared dully forward, unmoved. Andromeda was waiting, eyes alight with a feverish glow.

"I know you hate me," she added after a while, a bit desperately. "I… understand. I didn't expect it to turn any other way. But this wasn't what I wanted, I swear. I didn't want to leave you behind."

"Why did you, then." There was no fury – only numbness, emptiness. In a way, it was very good. In a way, it was frightening.

"Because I couldn't take it anymore," Meda responded passionately. "You could survive without me, so could Bella – you both did. But I was choking, Cissy. I couldn't have borne it any longer."

"And you're happy now."

She had the nerve not to hesitate. "No, I'm not."

Cissy started laughing shrilly. The sound rebounded against the walls, threw faraway echoes into the water, perhaps. Meda was frozen in her seat. "You're so selfish," she declared. "Choking! But I'm choking everyday!" The laughter was tearing through her throat, painful. "And I don't _run_!"

"But you never said." Andromeda's face, her hands, her lips were white. "You never said anything. Anything. How could I have known?"

"You would have left anyway."

She hesitated. "Maybe."

Narcissa reeled backwards. Suddenly, she could feel the icy stones beneath her bare feet, the chilly air blowing through her frame. "Well, goodbye," she said, her voice light-sounding and too high, almost shrill. It felt like closure – she felt like running. If she had had questions, everything seemed quite useless now. She had all the answers she needed already, summed up in one little word, and all of the rest was irrelevant.

"Don't go!" Meda cried, leaning forward earnestly. But Narcissa padded away, across the room and down the stairs to sit on the last one, curling herself up, in the cold.

Nobody came looking for her.

* * *

><p>Knock, knock, knock, knock. "Enter!" a voice called from within the office.<p>

Cissy slipped into the room, shutting the door as she went. Horace Slughorn, her Head of House, sat behind his desk, comfortably filling the available space and her range of vision. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment, and she bit her lip slightly, feeling more nervous than was reasonable. After all, she had been given no reason to believe that the professor wished to speak to her of any unpleasant event that would have been brought to his attention. She stepped forward, slim fingers closing around the back of a chair as she waited for him to acknowledge her.

"Please sit, dear girl," he told her invitingly, and she docilely obeyed, though she kept from expressing a certain dislike at being called "dear girl". Slughorn arranged a few stacks of leaflets that were sprawled before him on the desk, smiling paternalistically. "Let us begin, shall we?" he said. "As you know, this meeting is designed to discuss your future career and your subject choices for the next two years. Tell me, is there any professional path that seems appealing to you at the moment?"

Narcissa cleared her throat, careful to control the wave of relief that washed over her at his harmless words. Only career advice it would be, then. "To be honest, Professor, I haven't given much thought to any work-related prospects," she responded. "I am merely planning to do well on my OWLs so I can continue my education very thoroughly and pass a large amount of NEWTs, but after that I shall certainly marry and lead the life suitable to a lady." She trailed off and stared expectantly at her Head of House, hoping he would get the hint and promptly release her.

Slughorn pursed his lips with a weary sigh. "Ah… That speech is a familiar one to me, I've heard it from many young girls before." He patted his stomach absent-mindedly. "However, you must understand, Miss Black, that it remains my duty to increase your awareness of the various options you still have. No matter how unlikely it is that you may have to find a job indeed, you must be prepared for every possible turn of events – and such is my responsibility."

Narcissa sighed internally, feeling rather nettled. Obviously Slughorn would not simply let her go, regardless of how badly she wished it were so. She waited for the rest, hands folded in her lap, determined to see this through with perfectly appropriate behaviour, no matter how restless the mere fact of finding herself in her Head of House's office made her feel. The teacher's frown deepened at her obvious though politely displayed unwillingness to make his task any easier.

"Very well," he began. "What are your favourite subjects?"

"Charms, Astronomy and Runes, sir."

"Ah, yes. The Blacks and stars." He chuckled. "Runes… Now that is interesting. You could specialize in Runes translation. There are plenty of old texts to study – culturally speaking, quite fulfilling… Are you good at History of Magic as well?"

"Not bad, Professor." It bored her to death.

"Very well, very well," Slughorn declared, though she could hardly see how it was so well at all. "Would you ever be tempted by a teaching career?"

"I think not, sir."

"The Ministry, then?"

She suppressed a smile at his half-hearted attempts. "I would find I lack the necessary ambition, I'm afraid."

Slughorn hesitated. "Healing?"

She stared, shocked. "Probably not, Professor, I'm sorry… Why would you think that?"

Embarrassed, he waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no matter," he said. "I was remembering there'd been interest in the family before, that's all." He sighed again, obviously wishing this were over with just as much as she did – if any such thing was possible. "My dear, the problem is, you will have to occupy yourself with _something_ once you are married."

"Oh, I would not worry. The life of a lady of standing is not boring," she assured him. He still seemed quite doubtful.

"All right…" he said slowly, and she sensed that the end was near; he would not keep her much longer now. "I suppose Astronomy is an option too. The study of stars… Your family must own a lot of documentation on that subject."

"Indeed, sir."

"Well then!" he exclaimed in relief. "That seems to be the best plan. Keep all the subjects you can, as you said, but if needed, focus on Astronomy." He grinned at her, with all the gratification of a difficult job well handled.

"Yes, sir," Narcissa said submissively. She had no intention to focus on anything but being the best – however, if this helped Slughorn sleep at night and get off her back, all the better. "May I leave now?" she pushed hopefully.

"Ah, just a minute." Hastily, Slughorn proceeded to gather all of his leaflets into one thick pile, which he then pushed across the desk towards her. Cissy raised an eyebrow. "Take this, just in case," he urged. "You might stumble across something interesting or useful. And I'll have done my duty."

"All right, sir," she uttered, taking the papers docilely. "And now…?"

"Now you can go, dear girl," he replied all too eagerly, and she smiled his way before darting from the room.

Well, this had been a mere formality. Narcissa rushed back to the common room, only briefly sparing a thought to pity the unfortunate souls who were struggling to discover the shape of their future overnight. At least she was secure and satisfied. And safe. "_Evanesco_," she murmured a bit smugly, and the stack of leaflets she was loaded with vanished into thin air.

Travers was waiting for her in the corridor leading to their House, leaning against a wall. He glanced up as she stopped next to him. "So?" he said dryly.

"It went well, though the whole thing was useless, of course," she replied, shrugging. He grunted non-committally.

"Are we going to just stand there?" she inquired. His eyes flashed to her face.

"Yes, probably. I'm planning to, at least," he shot back.

Narcissa blinked. "All right. What's your problem?"

"Oh, nothing big," he drawled sarcastically. "Just had a tiny run-in with dear Alcyone Nott."

Narcissa felt coldness flooding her chest, tightening her lungs as she fought to repress a sudden wave of fear. This was Travers, she reminded herself, not Slughorn – it couldn't be as bad. Maybe there'd be no trouble at all. "What did she say?" she asked, trying hard to sound offhand.

"Oh, many things. That you were sneaking around behind my back, mostly, that you kept attacking her, and that you were a crazy little whore. She rephrased that a few times during our chat to make sure her point was coming across, it was rather funny to witness."

"You let her get away with insulting me?" she picked up incredulously. Attack seemed to be the best line of defence at the moment – easiest, at least, until she could summon her wits again. Her heart drummed anxiously, and she swallowed and squared her jaw, with a defiant glare.

"Oh no, the wisest thing was obviously to throw myself at her and slap her, so I did just that."

"I can't believe this," Narcissa murmured darkly. "You're siding for her. You…"

"Oh no you don't, Cissy," he cut her off. "I spent the whole year siding for you and look where it took me. For the record, I don't give a damn what Alcyone Nott says or thinks about anything. However, I find that a bit concerning when she seems to tell me the truth more often than my very girlfriend does."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, she would have me believe you've been dating Mudbloods." He was speaking faster and faster, and her heartbeat quickened painfully in response. "But I know you better than that. Did you really think I hadn't noticed anything, when even _Alcyone_ has? Did you think I was that blind? It's not a Mudblood – it's a good spoiled little society boy, I'd bet, but you kept me for venting and tutoring purposes, didn't you? Till the end of the year, then see if you come back in September with a ring on your left hand?"

"Listen," she tried weakly, "please…"

"No," he snarled. "No, Cissy, _you_ are going to listen to me. I liked you – I thought you were fun, really pretty, and just great overall, and I wanted to open up your little mind a little, so _badly_. Nothing big, I know you've got another future – but at least I was thinking you'd be honest with me." He stared her down. "It looks like you're unable to be honest to anyone, unfortunately."

She was starting to shake. Her whole body shook, shock and hurt and disbelief stirring in her insides with a cold, cold realization. "Adrian," she whispered, "please listen to me."

"Go ahead. What do you have to say?"

He was glaring harshly at her, and her eyes slowly started swimming, blinded with tears. For a minute he appeared mollified, and then he shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I thought I could help. I can't, and you're not letting me anyway. I don't know what you kept me for, but it doesn't make sense. We're done."

A little sob escaped her. Cissy didn't know what she wanted anymore. However, she was sure that Travers should _not_ leave her. She would be lost if he did… "Wait," she pleaded.

He hesitated.

"Look," he said bluntly. "Ask him, if you need to talk, whoever it is. I'm sure it's someone… great. It's just not my job anymore, you can't expect me to stick around forever and get this in return." He bit his lip. "We can stay friends. Just… not right away. I have feelings, too, you know."

Narcissa reached out and tangled her fingers with his. For a moment, he paused and looked down at their linked hands. Then he broke free, slowly.

"Take care of yourself," he threw hastily, half over his shoulder, before he disappeared into the common room, leaving her frozen behind.

* * *

><p>"Thank you Miss, that will be all," the examiner said.<p>

Narcissa took a moment's pause after she'd left the Great Hall, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply. She reminded herself that it had gone all right, everything had. She could calm down now. Only a few subjects left. Her heart kept on hammering in her chest, and she gave a small sigh.

The door opened again, causing her to jump a little. A Gryffindor, and a Ravenclaw she remembered seeing in Herbology – Buggle, that was it, that was his name. Cissy snorted. The boys walked past her without sparing a glance to the side, and she remained standing there as they disappeared at the corner of the corridor. She waited.

One last time, the door released a student from the tangible reality of OWLs. Cassandra Burke stepped back, visibly shocked to find her still there, to face her so unexpectedly. Narcissa swallowed.

"Hello," she said. "How did the exam go for you?"

Cassandra tossed back her hair, a sharp gesture. "Quite well," she answered dryly, "as you probably saw."

"It was hell to stay focused," she confessed. "I thought I was going to snap."

"But you did all right."

Narcissa pondered. "Yes. Yes, I think I did."

Cassandra nodded curtly. "That's good."

"I'm glad you did well too," Cissy hastily added. "Well, that's hardly a surprise."

She thought a shadow of a smile might touch her former friend's lips. It was short-lived, but real. "Oh, stop it."

They hovered a few seconds, then Cassie started going for the dungeons. Narcissa followed, walking quietly alongside her. They did not speak for a little while.

"Fifth year, almost done," she eventually risked. "This feels so strange, doesn't it?"

"I'd say it went rather slow," was the only answer she received.

Cissy chewed on her lip. "Cassie," she uttered softly.

Cassandra froze and turned her way, just a little. Her face was half thrown into the shadows of the corridor and Narcissa did not really try to meet her eye. She willed herself to carry on, find some strength.

"I…" The words were hard to push through her lips, all of her carefully thought-out sentences seemed forgotten at the moment. "I guess I'd just like to be friends again," she tried. "If you'd like that. I mean – I missed you. It's been a hell of a year, and I know I haven't been… very good to you. Let me know if you think you can forgive me."

Cassandra didn't reply for a while as Cissy waited with bated breath. A low sigh escaped the other girl's lips. "Is this about Travers?" she eventually asked. "Feeling lonely, aren't you?"

Narcissa struggled for an answer. This much was impossible to deny. "I didn't run to you as soon as it was over, did I?" she finally said. "I mean… I've been dealing with it, on my own. The year is almost done, we're all going to get home. I could just leave and see what happens next term. But I know that we would need to talk – now." She paused. "I really want to fix things up. I want our sixth year to start differently." And she dared to look up and meet Cassie's gaze.

The girl nodded slowly, sternly. "Cissy, I got hurt," she said. "I lost my best friend, overnight, for something I wasn't responsible of."

Fear fluttered at the bottom of Narcissa's stomach. "I know," she swiftly spoke.

"I just want to make sure you do. It's not only words. I might need time, too. But…" She paused, seemingly unsure. "I'm all right with the idea of giving it a chance. I think it might be worth it. And I like the sound of that new start, I think."

A smile slowly blossomed on Narcissa's lips. "Yes," she agreed, "there are a lot of things I want to leave behind."

Cassie wrinkled her nose. "Start slow. Those damned Charms books, for instance," she suggested. A smirk was definitely playing on the corner of her mouth now, and Narcissa grinned back eagerly.

* * *

><p>The walk from the castle to the train was a quiet one. All around the other students were joking and chatting loudly, but Narcissa preferred remaining silent and Cassandra seemed lost in thought. They had not been talking much since their encounter during exams, enjoying brief moments of companionship instead and allowing the reserve between them to slowly melt away. It was pensive, restful and oddly way more pleasant than Cissy would ever have imagined.<p>

The girls settled in an empty compartment and Narcissa leaned back into her seat with a small sigh, allowing her lids to drift closed. She was going home. Of course the summer would hardly be a lazy one, but the pressure of social engagements and the one of exams stood realms apart, although each was certainly equally taxing, in their own way, as the other. It would be a relief to slip from herself and be out there in the world, playing again. Opening her eyes, she found Cassandra watching her thoughtfully.

"What is it?" she asked. Cassie shrugged.

"Nothing." She turned slightly so she would face the window instead, and it was Cissy's turn to behold her in silence.

"What are you doing this summer?" Cassie suddenly inquired, making the other girl start. She had whipped her head again, abruptly, to stare straight into Narcissa's eyes.

"Well…" She hesitated. "Balls, for the most part, I suppose. And I'll be visiting Bella…" She trailed off, uncertain somehow.

"Tell me about balls. Are they nice?"

"Oh yes. The people are lovely… And hosting one is the most thrilling thing, of course."

"Anyone I know? Well, besides Alcyone?"

"Alcyone and Cadmus, but also many others… Virgil Greengrass… They are mostly older though. Oh, there's Lucius Malfoy – isn't he your cousin?"

There was a rather cold, awkward silence. "Surely. Never met him," Cassandra uttered. Narcissa fumbled for what to say next.

"What about you?" she managed. Cassie just shrugged.

"Probably not much. Cara will be getting ready, she's found an internship at the Ministry in September, so we'll be spending time together as well, I guess. It's going to feel odd without her."

"I understand." Cassandra frowned slightly, but made no further comments.

"Where will she be working?" Narcissa inquired next. She honestly cared very little about Carmilla's career, or anything related to her at all, actually – but a hint of unease had sneaked into her and Cassie's easy quietness, and broken the charm. They had to keep talking now, she was painfully aware of this.

"Minister for Magic and Support Staff," Cassie answered carelessly, with a slightly mocking drawl. "Says it looks pretty interesting, but it rather seems boring to me… I'm not a Ministry kind of person anyway, it's so formal and narrow-minded. I would prefer Gringotts or something similar, something a bit out of the ordinary." She yawned. "How did your meeting with Slughorn go? The Careers Advice appointment?"

Narcissa considered. "Quite well, I suppose. It isn't like I needed it, it was merely a bothersome procedure to go through."

Cassandra had a mirthless laugh. "Did you tell him you'd only be getting married anyway?"

"Basically, yes." Narcissa giggled, a little out of nervousness, as there was nothing specifically funny about the matter.

"Right." Cassie abruptly stood. Cissy blinked, taken aback, staring up at her friend. "I'm going to see Cara. Are you coming along?"

She hesitated. "Won't she be with the others of her year? It is their last train ride together."

"Yes, but they don't want to let it get too… nostalgic – nor to allow everyone to start rambling about their marvelous work opportunities, so it'll be good if there are people popping in and out. Come on."

Narcissa stood willingly enough, and the two girls made their way into the corridor, passing a couple of loud, excited groups. Cissy slipped between a boasting boy and his giggling bunch of admirers. She found herself jostled against a compartment door, and automatically glanced inside as she regained her balance. She froze. For the last time, probably, she was seeing her sister.

She looked up, and Cassandra was staring, a few steps away, half-turned in her direction. They locked gazes shortly. Then, before she had a chance to make up her mind, part her lips in a call or merely start _thinking_ again, the other girl swept on her heel, striding away. "I'll be with the seventh years," she shouted from over her shoulder above the din.

Cissy swallowed convulsively, with another anxious glance inside the compartment. Andromeda hadn't noticed her yet, and already Cassie was gone, out of sight. She had the choice and she didn't. She slipped inside, hardly breathing.

Her sister blinked in shock at the sight of her. "I'm not staying," she spoke quickly, back pressed against the door. "I just – wanted to say goodbye."

Andromeda stood. Slowly, she reached out one hand and Cissy stared at it. She seized it. Pulled forward a bit roughly, she found herself in her sibling's arms, breathing into her perfume.

"Goodbye," Meda said, voice muffled and tearful-sounding. Narcissa squeezed her own burning eyes shut, overwhelmed by the warmth and familiarity of the embrace. She felt something, deep within her, threatening to break – again, all over again. Carefully, she counted ten seconds in her brain before stumbling away.

Andromeda let her go, just standing there, watching – watching her as she fled, once more, one last time. Cissy didn't look back, dashing to the door and through the corridor instead, blindly. Her shoulders hit other students' and she kept her head lowered, biting her lips hard, struggling to remain unconspicuous, if not actually in control. Eventually, she threw herself into the compartment she'd been looking for, located Cassie and dropped on the couch beside her, her pulse racing.

"Hi, Cissy," Carmilla called a little defiantly. She did not look up, and the other girl did not insist. But she felt Cassandra's hand covering hers, squeezing her fingers. She held tightly onto it, clinging to the comforting touch until the train finally reached London.

The air she breathed smelled of smoke and rain. "Take care of yourself," her friend told her as they stepped down onto the platform. Narcissa swayed and avoided her gaze, but gave a tiny nod. She glimpsed her mother waiting alone, a little ways apart from the crowd. Another sharp pinch at her heart, unreasoned.

"You, too," she muttered, and Cassie hugged her briefly before letting her go. Unsettled, Narcissa paused to take a deep breath, square her shoulders, straighten her back and compose her face. Then she walked to her mother confidently, a flawless society girl on the outside and on display – something to be proud of.


	9. Avalanches

**Here is the ninth chapter, named after the song by IAMX. Enjoy =) **

* * *

><p>Narcissa walked down the stairs, her footsteps echoing quietly on the smooth stones, filling the silence. She breathed deeply, and the smell of food, drifting from the dining room, caused her a startled shudder. How silly of her, she thought as she reached for the doorknob. How very silly.<p>

"Good morning, dear," her mother said affably as she slipped inside. Druella was daintily sipping her tea, and Cygnus glanced up from his _Prophet_ to send a brief smile his daughter's way. Narcissa took a seat slowly, feeling awkward. She was not yet accustomed to sharing moments such as this one with her parents alone; once more, she was keenly aware of Bellatrix's absence.

"Good morning, Mother, Father," she responded regardless, reaching for a cup of tea. As she moved quietly, helping herself to some of the edibles that were laid on the table, her eyes found her father's face. He was frowning, fingering his fork absent-mindedly, his gaze fixedly focused on the headline of his newspaper. He looked tired and a bit older, but Narcissa was not really surprised.

"Anything interesting?" she found herself asking timidly.

He looked up, taken off guard. "Nothing special," he responded vaguely. "Just some trouble out there… As usual. It never seems to stop."

"What is it?" she asked, intrigued. Cissy racked her brains for anything odd she might have heard about recently; admittedly, what with her upcoming OWLs, she had not been paying as much attention as she could have.

"Merely some rash groups wrecking havoc and pressuring the government with the wrong methods entirely," Druella swiftly intervened as Cygnus was hesitating. "Nothing you ought to be concerned about, my dear. You should rather focus on the social season, now that you are free of school for two months."

"Surely." Although Narcissa hastened to agree, her eyes still searched her father's face questioningly. Cygnus shrugged and took a sip of tea, his attention falling back to his paper. Druella required no further prompting to begin listing the upcoming balls and gatherings along with their hosts' identities, and Cissy focused on her again, a tiny thrill briefly flying through her as the name of 'Malfoy' reached her ears.

"We are not going anywhere this year, are we?" she inquired. Her mother shook her head.

"Certainly not for your first summer in society, darling. Besides, I have already been off to Switzerland in the spring, and I have no desire to leave again. As for your father, he travels all the time."

"The demands of work," he agreed. "I would rather not stay too far from England."

Cissy nodded. "What about Bella and Rodolphus? Do you know if they are going anywhere?"

"I have not the slightest idea. You know your sister, she hasn't been writing very much ever since she got married at last. Actually, the last time I dropped by Lestrange Hall, she was not even home," Druella said dismissively. "Well, it is up to her husband to keep her in check now."

Cygnus' lips tightened, and Narcissa briefly wondered whether anyone would ever be capable of keeping Bella 'in check'. "I will visit her soon."

"Very good idea, dearest. But for now, hurry up and have some toast. I was planning to take you shopping for new outfits. One never has too many and you need your summer wardrobe renewed."

Narcissa smiled obediently as she slowly picked up a piece of toast. Cygnus snorted low as well, but the amusement did not reach his eyes, somehow.

* * *

><p>Narcissa breathed deeply into the warm scent of her sister's hair, the hints of orchid and vanilla in her perfume. She held firmly onto Bellatrix for a minute or two, not caring that her sibling wriggled impatiently between her arms. Eventually, with a tiny sigh, she let go and Bella danced away, rolling her eyes.<p>

"Yes, yes, it's good to see you too, Cissy," she said mockingly. Narcissa busied herself taking in her sister for a moment. But Bellatrix frowned back at her as though irritated, and she averted her gaze, glancing around instead.

"I'd never been here before. Lovely house," she commented.

"Lovely entrance hall," Bellatrix snorted. "But yes, I suppose – this place is nice. I like it better than the seaside estate, anyway."

"Good job Rodolphus got this one, then."

"Yes, yes." Bellatrix stepped back into the shadows of the hall. "Are you planning to stand there all day or shall I show you in?"

"You're the hostess," Narcissa couldn't resist shooting back.

With a groan, her sister led the way. She hovered for a moment, having visibly no idea of where it might be appropriate to bring her visiting sister for a good catching up. Eventually Narcissa took matters into her own hands and started pushing doors until she found a parlour and a good armchair to collapse into. Her long-restrained bitterness was resurfacing; she wanted Bellatrix to hug her tight, compliment her dress and hand her a cup of tea, just a few reassuring gestures to make her feel wanted and safe. However, a Bellatrix who commented on clothing and behaved in such a ladylike way would most likely be the result of Polyjuice Potion.

"Make yourself at home," Bella muttered, dropping on the sofa.

"We could have some tea. Where is your house-elf?" Narcissa retorted, looking around imperiously.

"Oh, please." Bellatrix leaned back with a groan. "Effy!"

With a tiny pop, an elf appeared, and Bella gestured mockingly towards it. "Be my guest."

"I would like two cups of tea."

"No, coffee for me," Bella interjected. "Make it a strong one."

"Yes, Miss, Missus," the creature squeaked before dashing off. It was promptly back with the desired beverages. Narcissa sipped her tea daintily, looking down for a minute.

"So what have you been up to?" she eventually asked. "You never did tell me."

Bellatrix fidgeted. "Oh, I've been here and there. A bit busy."

"I see." There was definite coldness in the two short words, and Cissy pursed her lips in frustration. "What about Rodolphus? How are things with him?"

Bella shrugged. "All right. Well, we're getting along, for the most part. That's what matters."

"Are the two of you going anywhere this summer?"

"Oh, no," Bella answered too quickly, and then hesitated. "Or… we might. I mean, we haven't _planned_ anything, but we might just go. On short notice, few days at a time. Rodolphus loves that kind of thing. I think he'd like to travel more."

"That's nice," Narcissa replied quietly.

"Oh yes. Very nice."

The sisters just stared at each other for a moment. Narcissa squared her jaw, fury flaring stronger within her. "I want you to stop that, Bella."

"What are you talking about?" her sister snarled back. Her hands had suddenly curled around the arms of her chair like claws; she was tense, waves of aggressiveness rolling off her. Narcissa recoiled back, a frightened shock taking over her anger for a moment. She could taste her sibling's wrath in the air, a bitter, smothering flavour. It couldn't be a mere overreaction to her words.

"I want you to stop lying to me!" she cried earnestly. Bellatrix flinched – very slightly, but she could see it – and Cissy straightened up, determined. "I know you've been hiding things," she quickly continued. "You've been so elusive, your letters so… vague. Your only letter, I should say… I know that's partly just the way you are, but there's more to it. Don't you think I'm stupid enough to buy your half-constructed lies, Bella."

Bellatrix seemed to be struggling for words. She stood abruptly, and paced the room, her hair flying everytime she whirled or tossed her head. Narcissa set her cup of tea on the table; her hands were shaking dangerously. Her sister's rash, irrational behaviour was scaring her – Bella seemed scarcely in control, as though overwhelmed by a greater force, lying coiled tight at the core of her, adding a vicious fire to her already volatile reactions. It made no sense – nothing had happened that might have changed her so much. She would have heard about it. There had been the wedding… And then she'd been off with Rodolphus, and they'd started living their life together – without their family having any hints as to what they were up to.

An ice-cold feeling of uneasiness slipped into her as she recalled more concerns, more mysteries, these ones long past. They belonged to a time and a person it wouldn't do to dwell about – but they had been there… The sisters had been keeping secrets forever, more and more as time slipped by.

"I got to know Lucius Malfoy, at school," she said quietly, out of the blue. "He's really nice."

Bella twisted on her heel to face her. "What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter." Bellatrix's face was faraway. Cissy couldn't tell what might really have mattered to her, not anymore. She swallowed and then went on. "You're not going to tell me."

Her sister was frowning. "No," she said. "Of course not. You wouldn't… It would only scare you." She shrugged. "I wouldn't want to scare off my little sister, now, would I?" A short, slightly hysterical laugh bubbled on her lips.

Narcissa sat there, staring, for a moment. Then she bit her lip and stood. "I think I'll be off, then," she said shortly. "I will see you soon."

"Yes." Bellatrix nodded, and Cissy could sense her _relief_. It stung bitterly, made her want to lash out. "I'll find the way," she shot over her shoulder, turning around hastily and heading straight to the door.

"Goodbye," she heard her sister call from behind her. Tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes, blurring her vision inconveniently.

* * *

><p>"Narcissa, do hurry up!"<p>

"I'm coming, Mother," she muttered, with a last, anxious check-up in the mirror hanging on the mantlepiece.

Druella's gaze swept swiftly and approvingly over her daughter's frame. "Very good. No need to fuss, everything looks perfect. Let us not be late."

"Fashionably late?" Cissy reminded her, eyeing warily the silver box that contained Floo powder, in her mother's hand.

"Not for every occasion. Dear me, Narcissa, you have not forgotten everything I ever taught you, I dare hope? Let us get going, dear. I would rather not make the ladies wait."

Internally sighing in resignation, Narcissa reached out and took a pinch of powder, which she tossed into the dancing flames. "Crabbe Mansion," she called as she stepped into the hearth. In a whoosh, she felt herself brutally swept away.

When she came stumbling into a brightly-lit drawing room, she felt like the ground was falling under her feet and her head floated somewhere far above. She blinked the tears away, swallowing and forcing a smile. A blurry, plump silhouette rose from an armchair and rushed her way. As she stepped forward to allow Druella space to exit the fireplace, she recognized the hostess, Arabella Crabbe.

"Narcissa, it's a pleasure!" the latter exclaimed. "Always a pleasure. You look lovely, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs Crabbe," Cissy responded gracefully, smiling.

While her mother was, in turn, being greeted, Narcissa's eyes scanned the lounge and the small assembly gathered there, swiftly and subtly. Although she had expected the disappointment, it still came sharply once she was positive that Bella was indeed not there. Walburga had also managed to excuse herself, it seemed, despite her being Mr Crabbe's cousin through her mother; then again, Mr Crabbe was not the most fulfilling company and even Arabella got a little daft sometimes… or rather often. However, Mrs Lavinia Lestrange was present with Rabastan, as well as Circe Malfoy and Lucius. Circe was languidly reclined in an armchair; though one could not say that she was counted among Mrs Crabbe's close friends, Druella had speculated that she would make an appearance, having been withheld by sickness since the spring – and so Narcissa was not surprised. Seeing Lucius did shock her a little, no matter how natural it seemed that he would accompany his mother and look after her; and Cissy quietly looked away while she was led to a seat, greeting everybody on her way.

"Narcissa Black." Lavinia Lestrange peered up at her with small, cold eyes before patting the opposite armchair. Cissy lowered herself into it with slight apprehension.

"I remember you from the wedding," Lavinia drawled. "Very pretty dress, I must say."

"Thank you," Narcissa replied sweetly.

"Hello, Narcissa," Rabastan curtly interjected, with a nod in her direction.

"Glad to see you again, Rabastan."

Small talk with Lavinia was quite the painful occasion. She gave off an unsettling aura of bitterness, without any real sense of humour to balance it into what one might call "a snarky character". She also managed, somehow, to appear unwilling to converse with Narcissa, and yet to deny her the slightest opportunity of a polite escape. Rabastan threw in a helpful word here and there to ease the tension, despite the fact that his mood seemed to darken the longer Cissy sat there in his mother's company. Narcissa glanced at the clock. Time for tea would come soon, hopefully she could make a run for it then.

She_ knew_ asking would probably be a bad idea, she could feel it and yet the question still escaped her lips: "And have you seen Rodolphus and Bellatrix lately? I was wondering if they'd be there tonight."

Lavinia sniffed haughtily. "Of course I see my son often, young lady. And I wondered the same thing, but the young couple happens to be _otherwise engaged_." She rapped out each of the syllables with unveiled distaste; Narcissa pictured stabbing quotation marks in the air. The words might not have been Bella's, but certainly they were interpreted as such.

"Yes, I heard they were rather busy," she responded, trying her best to sound relaxed. "I visited yesterday, but Rodolphus wasn't home."

"He is getting quite the important position at the Ministry – just like my other son Rabastan here. The two of them hold great responsibilities. But of course they still find time for their family." There was no mistaking that by 'family' she meant 'parents'.

"Mother," Rabastan muttered.

"Isn't it true, my dear? The Ministry and social engagements claimed you constantly for the past few months, and I am fortunate to be able to enjoy your company tonight."

"And what do you do exactly, Rabastan?" Cissy inquired. "Which department do you work in?"

"Public Information Services," he mumbled.

"At least our Ministry can still value those of noble blood," Lavinia declared. "Many of our valuable young men are busy building our country a future, most of all amongst my friends' sons… They are all swamped with work!" She had a breezy little laugh.

"Really," Narcissa replied vaguely.

"Perhaps you would not notice, with a household of _girls_," Mrs Lestrange added a bit viciously. "You are the last Black maiden, then, correct?"

"Correct–" Lavinia ranted on, only scarcely leaving her time to pronounce the word.

"My dear Rabastan here has many prospects. I am hoping he will have given me a daughter-in-law by this time next year." Her piercing glance was more than eloquent: this was not, in any way, to be taken as an invitation.

"_Mother._"

"Hush, dear. I only speak the truth, do I not?"

Lavinia looked down her nose at Narcissa, who smiled politely. "Well, Rabastan, you know you have my best wishes," she responded conventionally. Rabastan gave a grunt of acknowledgement and Cissy wondered at the unspoken rule that made it all right for men to act borderline rude to the individuals they were already familiar with, whereas a lady, in public, ought to never display anything but constant elegance. Taking advantage of a lapse in the discussion, she glanced at the other side of the grouping, and met Lucius Malfoy's eye. He gave her a brief smile before turning back to his mother.

"Narcissa," Druella called. "Come here, dearest, Harmonia would like to hear about your OWLs!"

"If you will excuse me," Narcissa told the Lestranges as she rose.

Harmonia Greengrass was eager to hear of the subjects she had taken, but even more so to go on and on about her son Virgil's achievements, and soon Narcissa was free to let her attention wander as the women gushed. Once more, she found her gaze drawn to Lucius' pale profile. He sat by his mother's side, watchful, as it seemed, only occasionally moving his lips in a polite comment. Narcissa noticed that a few younger girls were stealing glances at him with bated breath, and the ladies of their families also seemed quite aware of the bachelor's presence. In this mostly feminine assembly he carried himself with gallant ease, but it set Cissy's teeth on edge. She felt disgusted by these calculating or lovesick females, all moving and talking in carefully planned ways, brushing his chair as they passed. They were fake, tasteless, and air-headed, the whole lot of them. His name, money, looks and future influence made him their prized prey. She had to remind herself that he probably could defend himself fairly well.

While she brooded, Lucius looked up and she was caught staring in the most shameful way. Heat flooded Narcissa's face as she blushed deeply, and she saw the corner of his mouth curling upwards in amusement. Very slightly, he inclined his head in Circe's direction.

A small thrill went through Narcissa. Keeping her voice cool, she excused herself and rose to say hello to Madam Malfoy.

Circe looked up at her approach, and Cissy thought she saw a flicker of something cold in her gaze. She must have been paranoid.

"Narcissa!" the lady drawled. "How delightful to see you again."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Malfoy," she replied. "How is your health?"

"Poor, quite poor, but getting better. Vanishing sickness, all the more dreadful with the passing of years. Ah, believe me – enjoy your youth while it lasts."

Narcissa smiled. One must have Circe's style to openly speak of their age in polite society, as though daring others to frown. "You are not old."

"Neither am I youthful, alas."

She had an odd feeling; although Circe acted just as sardonic and pleasant as the last time she had seen her, Cissy sensed a reserve in the other woman, as if she weren't actually pleased to see her. Before she could start panicking quietly, however, Lucius distracted her by rising and kissing her hand.

"Miss Black," he said. "I hope you are enjoying your afternoon."

"Very much, thank you," she responded coolly – or, at the very least, with a praiseworthy attempt at coolness. The brushing of his breath against the back of her hand made her shiver. They locked gazes for a few more seconds.

"Lucius," Circe called, carrying on with a sentence Cissy paid no attention to, dangerously close as she was to switching off entirely. Mrs Malfoy was demanding her son's attention, and it seemed that the girl's presence was no longer required. "I will see you at the ball," she declared. "Take care of yourself, Mrs Malfoy."

"Likewise, dear," Circe retorted dismissively.

Lucius glanced at her and added: "See you soon, Narcissa."

Cissy all but skipped to a seat by her mother, only narrowly managing to keep her sudden joy under control. She grinned as she settled, and threw herself back into social interaction. Many small, but troubling concerns might have inhabited her mind – Bellatrix and Circe, among others –, yet for now, only one fact remained: in ten days' time she would be at Malfoy Manor for a ball, and she was almost positive that she could count on a few dances with Lucius.


	10. Smoke and Mirrors

**And here is some Lucissa goodness at least! The chapter is named after the Gotye song. Enjoy!**

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><p>She paced in the foyer, heels clicking and heart drumming. Narcissa could hear the angry swishing of her skirts and she worried she might crease her beautiful dress, but the concern could not counteract her restlessness.<p>

"For Morgana's sake, Narcissa!" Whirling around, she saw her mother hurrying towards her. "Compose yourself immediately! This frantic attitude is most unbecoming."

"Yes, Mother," she mumbled. Druella eyed her quizzically.

"Are you nervous?"

Cissy swallowed. "Well… I suppose so, yes." She had no desire to confess the actual reason.

"There is no need," Druella said firmly. "This is your second ball – the first went wonderfully, and so shall all the ones that will follow. Do not let the Malfoys impress you – they know how to put on a show, which makes them equals to the lot of us, at the very best. We are Blacks, Narcissa."

"Yes, Mother." She took a deep breath and released it slowly from her lungs.

"Look at that…" Narcissa glanced up at the sound of her father's voice, and met his approving gaze. She had a small smile and walked forward to offer him her cheek. He lay a small, surprised kiss there. Special occasions.

"Now, if Bellatrix would hurry," Druella sighed. "We should arrive all together, and at a _proper_ time…"

As though to emphasize her words, the flames whooshed green in the hearth, and Bellatrix stepped out, followed by her husband. Narcissa's eyes scanned her sister's dress swiftly; it was close-fitting, off the shoulder, and flowed beautifully. She had actually bothered fixing her hair too. Bella strode forwards to embrace her mother and sister briefly, and Cissy had a small smile at the picture they must make – Druella in regal blue, Bellatrix in silver and herself in amaranth. Three shades of the same innate elegance.

"Being here makes the whole ball ordeal seem almost less tedious," Bella commented as Rodolphus, in turn, greeted his in-laws.

"Then perhaps you ought to come more often," their father replied as he approached to kiss his eldest daughter's forehead. Bellatrix's eyebrows shot up, nearly reaching the place his lips had touched. None of Cygnus' daughters were very accustomed to small, affectionate physical touches, and Cissy wondered whether she had been the one to prompt his gesture.

"It's all in the comparison. I can't imagine anything worse than being stuck with Lavinia Lestrange all evening," Bellatrix added airily, getting past the astonishment.

Druella frowned. "You are a Lestrange now, Bella, as much as a Black," she reminded. "Rodolphus, do not accommodate her too much."

"I don't really mind," Rodolphus answered, "but I will keep an eye on her all the same." His eyes were currently passing from Black to Black, and Cissy sensed them lingering on her. It felt odd, as though he were trying to read something in them.

"I suppose it has become your business now," Druella sighed.

Rodolphus had a short laugh. "It has." Cissy glanced at him. He stared back with circled blue eyes until she had to look away.

"Weren't we supposed to be on schedule?" Bellatrix inquired mockingly. Druella pursed her lips in response and took a pinch of Floo powder before stepping into the hearth.

"Can't fathom why the Malfoys would want everybody to come by Floo," Bella commented as their mother disappeared. "My, Cissy, don't you look fidgety." Narcissa started and made an effort to keep still. If even her sister was noticing, well – that was no good news.

"They would have their guests blinded by light and luxury from the first second," Cygnus responded dryly. "Ashes in one's eye help."

Bellatrix laughed and Cissy forced a smile as their father added before he left: "It's very Malfoy."

Her fingers shook a little and she was careful not to drop the box of powder. It would only last a few seconds, she told herself, her hair was too perfectly fixed to suffer any damage – and she advanced into a tiny hurricane, roughly swept away by the inferno. She shut her eyes tightly, and cried her destination through her teeth.

Arrival blinded her indeed. The drawing room at Malfoy Manor was full of lights and laughing, conversing people; there was music in the background somewhere – coming from the ballroom, surely. Narcissa took a deep breath and tried to locate her parents, first. Her mother was in a small group with Lucius, and her father was shaking Abraxas Malfoy's hand, polite yet tense.

The flames roared low behind her and she felt Bella's arm slipping through hers, pulling her forwards. "Merry evening, sister."

She turned her head to meet her sibling's black eyes. "I will never learn to make sense of your moods, it seems," she whispered. "Salazar knows I try."

Bella tugged on her limb with a small smile. "Stop trying. You get silly ideas and you're already frantic enough tonight. You need a drink, Cissy, dearest."

"I am not _frantic_!"

She gasped a little as she suddenly found herself face to face with Lucius Malfoy. She had no idea whether her voice had carried, on her last sentence, more than she intended it to, and she felt a burning blush flooding her face.

"Good evening, Narcissa, Bellatrix," Lucius said smoothly, not seeming to notice her embarrassment, though he had to be pretending. His eyes lingered on the two of them. "You both look delightful tonight."

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," Bella drawled, saving Cissy the trouble of having to speak herself.

"Rodolphus." The men nodded to one another.

"Don't give yourself any trouble, we don't need introductions, nor to be walked around the room. We will get some drinks, good evening to you," Bellatrix told Lucius before she towed Cissy away. Too shocked to react on time, the girl could only open her mouth, and then close it.

"What did you do that for?" she hissed as they neared the buffet.

"Oh, don't you start lecturing me on politeness, Cissy. You don't need to worry about the host. You can manage navigating through a ball on your own all right, and I am sure we didn't hurt his feelings. What you need right now is a drink." Picking up two glasses, she handed one to Narcissa. It was cool and filled to the brim with a clear, white liquid.

"What if I _wanted_ to talk to him?" Cissy retorted, though a bit less angrily. Bellatrix turned to stare at her; her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh," she replied. "I see. Well, you _said_ you were definitely over your little crush on Lucius Malfoy."

"I don't have a crush on him," she protested, humiliated. "We became friends. He's very pleasant."

"Yes, you might have mentioned that," Bellatrix commented distantly. She drank half of her glass, a silvery liquid Narcissa suspected must have been quite strong. She blinked a little as she lowered it.

"So may I go and talk to the people I appreciate, or were you planning to babysit me a little bit longer?" Cissy asked acidly.

Bella glared. "Merlin, how unbearable can you get? I'd never seen you in such a state over a ball before, and I couldn't very well figure it was because you were desperate to cling to Lucius Malfoy's sleeve. But yes, you can go, don't mind me."

"I was not in a state," Cissy hissed. "And it's not like you've been to my first ball."

"Oh, just go away then." Bellatrix downed her cocktail. Narcissa hurried away, easily slipping through the crowd.

She breathed deeply, hoping her face did not betray how flustered she was, and unthinkingly looked around for Lucius. Of course, he still stood by the hearth, greeting guests as they arrived, the perfect host; Abraxas and Circe were also busy making everybody feel welcome. Cygnus had disappeared somewhere and Druella was conversing animatedly with a group of ladies. Narcissa resigned herself to socializing for a little while. Although Bellatrix had ruined her mood, she still ought not to forget her duties.

Cissy glided her way through the party, chatting and sipping on her drink, her fingernails drumming broken little rhythms against the stem of the glass. She found herself tormented by two conflicting urges: half of her was drawn towards the music, longed to be held in a pair of firm arms and to twirl effortlessly, until she felt dizzy and breathless – yet she could _not _leave the ballroom, simply walk away as if nothing held her there. It was Lucius she wanted as her partner, very naturally, so naturally that she only truly realized it upon trying to picture another young man in his place. They had never danced before; of course they had to.

However, Lucius was the host and he could not go until every guest had arrived and been properly greeted. Narcissa hovered, anxiety nagging at her nerves. She was feeling raw, exposed; surely the regular glances she threw at the young Mr Malfoy were all too conspicuous – everyone would notice, whisper, gossip would spread and it would be so terribly embarrassing. Here she stood, unable to forget about him and go about her business, sighing and peering like a stupid little girl.

Her glass was empty and she mechanically went to fetch another. The liquid was warming her up and also gave her countenance. She was starting to find the lighting way too bright; everything glittered, everybody's smiles appeared toothy and their eyes too keen, seeing right through her. Narcissa chewed on her lip, her gaze leaping across the room. Her father and sister had disappeared; only Druella remained, thankfully too engrossed in conversation to notice her youngest girl's dismay. The glass shook a little between Cissy's fingers. She needed a breath of fresh air.

She still remembered the lovely gardens, though she would never have dared to wander there uninvited – not again. She only glanced once, through the window, before eventually leaving the drawing room. Voices drifted from a smaller lounge, then from what must have been a study, down the hall. The ballroom was on an upper floor, looking down across the domain. It was wide and beautiful, less blindingly lit, full of dancing couples. A young gentleman invited her almost right away, and Narcissa abandoned her drink to glide along with him, heels barely brushing the parquet.

She talked very little, merely murmuring responses whenever it proved strictly necessary. Her partner was a Bulstrode, she had forgotten the exact name. He appeared a bit flustered by her obvious lack of interest. When the song ended, he briefly bowed his head and strode away from her.

Just as she was making her way to the edge of the dance floor again, fingers brushed her shoulder lightly. There he was, as she spun around gasping. Lucius Malfoy smiled at her, his piercing grey eyes alight. She felt her heartbeat quicken painfully and desperately sought for a calm and witty word of greeting. None was to be found.

"Sorry I startled you," he spoke. "Shall we dance?"

She nodded once, a swift, shaky bob of her head.

His hand found her arm and she let herself be guided back to the dance floor. His hold was firm around her waist; they began twirling, just like she had imagined. There were a thousand things her mind could not have conceived on its own, things she now _perceived_, sensed and saw. There was their sheer proximity, Lucius' face just inches from her own, the shape of his lips as he smiled and the sheen of his smooth blond hair. There was his chest against hers, hard and defined, so solid. She guessed she could have leant against him, rested her cheek there, just above his heart. Not in public, of course.

"You are so quiet," he murmured. She avoided his gaze. "Narcissa."

"Mmm-mmm." With a small, panicked jolt, she realized that she was being dreadfully impolite. She behaved as though he would easily accept her behaviour, understand – as though it were all right, to let him see just how troubled she was. But there was no obvious bond between the two of them, no consensual secrecy. He could have walked away, right this instant, and told the world about Narcissa Black's blatantly displayed vulnerability.

"Do forgive me," she stammered. "I had things on my mind… I am feeling – slightly tired. This is a lovely evening, though. Delightful."

"Indeed," he said briefly. Cissy peered up at him, worried. He was staring off into the distance, thoughtful.

"Narcissa," he spoke again as the song came to an end and they parted. "I must attend to my guests, as you well know. I would quite like to take a walk with you, however. Could you meet me downstairs at eleven?"

Her heart traitorously skipped a beat. Narcissa nodded rapidly. "All right," she uttered through numb lips.

"Very good." He had a sudden smirk. "I would not mean to appear rude, but in the meantime, beware of our cocktails… Some are stronger than they appear, dreadfully so for a tired head." He kissed her hand swiftly, and strode off. Narcissa lingered for a minute, unsure of whether she should be flattered or slightly offended by his concern.

She had no more desire to dance. She felt a bit strange, actually, as though detached from reality; the voices, the dresses and the music all appeared so faraway, utterly irrelevant. It was a little less than two hours to eleven. Narcissa wandered through the ballroom, looking out across the grounds, or around at the people surrounding her.

Couples twirled and twirled, little groups moved lazily, parting and then coming back together, ladies chattered and sipped their drinks and gentlemen smiled, coolly nodding their heads. Each of them had their own place, their part to play. Then she spotted Bellatrix, sitting a ways away. She was the only woman in a group of men, leaned forwards as she spoke, and they all seemed to be listening. Rodolphus was there; he sat beside his wife, and from that distance Cissy could not tell the expression on his face.

She looked away again. For some reason the small scene was making her tense, on edge. After all, it meant nothing but Bellatrix's usual disregard of convention and ladylike behaviour. She was long used to that. Still; there was _something_ in the way her sister seemed to whisper earnestly – and her husband's rigid bearing. Something she'd felt coming for ages, somehow, never willing to actually face it, never knowing where it began, never guessing where it might end.

Narcissa leaned her shoulder against a wall. Her heart was beating too fast. She wanted very badly to see Lucius, and yet feared that it might be the undoing of what little control she had left.

"Narcissa."

Cissy jumped, with a strangled gasp. Her father stood before her, tall and collected. He gave her a small smile. "I thought you would be dancing."

"Oh, I did, but I'm a little tired now," she responded quickly.

"Too tired for a waltz with your old father?"

She rested a hand on his arm, shaking her head lightly.

Cygnus Black was a good dancer, leading her gently but firmly as they glided across the room. "I should leave you to your suitors," he remarked. "Your mother would very much object to my behaviour."

"Mmm-mmm." Through half-shut eyes and from her father's arms, the blur of passing individuals appeared less important and less unnerving. She leaned into him carefully, dimly wondering where the proximity was coming from. "You are all about your daughters tonight," she whispered.

"And how lovely they are too." Jestingly, he brushed his fingers against her hair. "You very much deserve the attention."

"Will you dance with Bella too?"

He shrugged. "I have a feeling that she is otherwise occupied."

Cissy followed her father's gaze. The little grouping hadn't moved. "She could make time for us."

"No doubt." But his tone had turned bleak and Narcissa tensed slightly again.

"Do you know something I don't?" she dared ask.

He dismissed her with a light laugh. "Many things, I should hope."

"I'm worried about her."

His expression darkened. "I think you would do best to keep out of this, Narcissa."

She allowed her eyes to drift shut once more. Another song began and her father kept her on the dance floor for a little while longer, before he eventually let her go.

A group of young people happened to be sitting quite close to the chair Cygnus led her to; soon they greeted her, and she was effortlessly included her in their conversation. Virgil Greengrass was there, along with Cadmus Selwyn and a few other familiar faces. Alcyone Nott did appear shortly after Narcissa, but she seemed to focus entirely upon the male elements of the gathering. Cissy couldn't help but notice that Selwyn didn't give the impression that he was paying a tremendous lot of attention to his long-time girlfriend, but she did not dwell on the matter, doing her best instead to look witty and lively despite remaining on the sidelines of the conversation.

The lull of voices and girlish laughter helped empty her mind, drown out every other thought. Time slipped by more effortlessly; soon it was ten o'clock, then half to eleven. Narcissa rose gracefully, excused herself and glided to the door in a daze, her heart hammering, louder and louder. On the threshold, she turned and threw one last look over the ballroom. She suddenly spotted the small gathering of men among which Bella had sat earlier. It looked slightly smaller now, and neither of the Lestranges were to be seen. Her father also seemed to have departed. She shook her head and rushed to the lower floor.

Just as she stepped down the last stair, Narcissa noticed her mother leaving the drawing room. A flash of anxiety crossed Druella Black's features when she spotted her youngest daughter, but she swiftly composed herself and strode up to Cissy, linking arms with her.

"At least you are here," she murmured, weariness finding her tone.

"Is something the matter, Mother?" Narcissa replied in equally hushed tones. Druella sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Nothing of importance. Your father left."

Cissy felt an odd, wild spasm to her heart. She turned sharply, facing her mother and blocking the latter's path. "What – where? Why?"

Druella blinked and shook her head fast, looking shocked. "No, no, Narcissa, it is nothing. He was tired and went home, that is all. But he left me here, and Bellatrix had the nerve to depart even earlier, her husband at her heels. I should not even hope for her to behave in a proper manner anymore, but it is still taxing, and bad for your image as well as the family's – her two families'."

Having finished her rant, she took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. Cissy squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel a headache building. Pieces were stirring in her head, struggling to add up, painfully. She could not think straight. Bella and her husband, Bella in groups of men, Bella never being available. The dark circles under her eyes, the new fire in her voice, the random, overwhelming bouts of aggressiveness. Her father's worries. The restrained wrath in his tightly set jaw when he had stared across the room at Bella's friends. _Andromeda_'s angry, anguished whispers, years ago…

"She's getting in trouble." Her own voice sounded hoarse and faraway to her ears. "What's going on? Who are these people she's hanging out with?"

Druella blinked. "Oh, well… She does seem to be awfully forgetting her place, if she was ever truly aware of it – but you should not worry too much, Narcissa. Surely she will grow out of it. And as long as your own behaviour remains flawless, this can hardly affect you very much." She patted her daughter's arm.

Cissy shook her head slowly, numbly. She could _sense_ something was very wrong, had been sensing it for months, though it was easier to deny it. But Bella was gone Merlin knew where, and there was no way her little sister could reach her tonight.

"Narcissa." Druella was starting to sound quite worried. "Dear, I think we are blocking the way." With a little jolt, Cissy stepped forwards into the hall, thankfully empty.

"We should go back upstairs," Druella continued. "We will be staying until midnight at least, and if anybody asks, your father was suddenly very tired and Rodolphus had an urgent matter calling him away."

"Yes, Mother." As she glanced at her thin, white gold watch, she remembered Lucius and her head shot up. "Actually, I was thinking I might get back to the drawing room for the end of the evening. The music is giving me a slight headache and I wouldn't want it to impair my mood."

Druella hesitated. "All right. It could be better indeed to have one Black in each important room if we do not want to make it seem that half of the family has run off. I will see you in a few hours, then, my dear." She kissed her daughter's forehead briefly before rushing up the stairs.

Narcissa took a slow, deep breath. She was ahead of time. Though she had not been following Lucius' movements after they had parted, he was probably still in the ballroom, dancing with an abundanceof lovely young girls, and it would not do for him to leave too early. Maybe he had fallen under the charm of some pretty, smooth-spoken heiress and would forget to come at all. Nobody else would know – whyever would he have to keep his word? Cissy considered waiting in the drawing room instead, but leaving it again afterwards would look odd – suspicious, even, after her family's behaviour tonight. But she was Narcissa Black. She couldn't remain standing in a hallway waiting for a boy, were he a Malfoy. It was unbecoming. He wouldn't even come – surely he wouldn't.

Cissy walked to the drawing room, but she stopped with her hand on the doorknob. At that moment, she heard voices and laughter, coming down the stairs towards her. She fled, farther into the foyer, searching for some darkness near the entrance, but everything was clearly lit. Thoughtlessly, she touched the doors and they swung open. She was pulled in, swallowed by the slightly cooler air and the night sky.

Cissy staggered and sat down on the last step. Once again, she breathed deeply, hands flat on her lap. This was probably best. She could pretend she had been feeling faint, too hot. No, admitting to feeling faint was no good idea. But it was lovely out there. She could smell the flowers from where she sat. She could see the wide, velvety expanse of the night sky. She preferred closing her eyes, letting a light wind wash over her face, time wash over her.

When she heard the footsteps, her heart leapt up into her throat. She twisted around, and there he stood, towering above her.

"I could not find you anywhere," he said softly. "I hadn't realized you would be outside already."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She tried to smile. He was staring down at her, the moonlight glinting faintly in his hair. He would think her so odd again.

"Your gardens are really delightful," she eventually tried.

"They are my mother's." He extended a hand. "Would you still like a walk?"

His palm felt warm as he helped her up. She paused, uncertain, and climbed the two steps to stand at his level. Lucius did not release her fingers; he simply pulled her along, out into the darkness.

The night was quiet and deep, stretching starless overhead. They wandered slowly together, still holding hands. Words evaded Narcissa, but he did not seem to mind. She could hear the soft sound of their even breathing, and a low chanting of water in the distance. He led her on a small path to the side of the drive, until they neared the fountain.

"It's lovely," she spoke, finding her voice slightly raw, her throat tight. Lucius let go of her and she reached out unthinkingly, palms brushing the marble edge. Then she turned towards him, leaning her back against the cool stone. He stood closer than she recalled. His breath was nearly brushing her cheek.

He dipped his head towards hers and her eyelids fluttered shut at his approach. Their lips met briefly, unsettlingly warm. Cissy stretched her neck a little, her whole body reaching upwards, closer to him. She made to stand on her tiptoes and stumbled a little in her high heels; her hand clutched his forearm. His laugh echoed, low and rich, nearly against her skin. In a bout of recklessness, she kissed his open mouth and turned his amusement into something fiercer, darker somehow. His arm was at her waist again. He drew her tightly to him, and she could feel, resonating against her ribcage, the drumming of his heart.

They parted, breathless.

Narcissa leaned against the fountain again, and shut her eyes. The smell of his cologne subdued that of the flowers. Everything was full of Lucius, as though he were the centre of gravity that kept earth and sky in place. It frightened her, just like the ghostly, delicate touch of his fingers to her cheek, her ear, her hair. Everything was so silent outside, but the roaring of blood in her temples made it impossible to think.

"Won't you look at me?" he asked.

Docilely, she did. Tall, pale, determined and beautiful, he stood before her like something from another world. The night and the water behind her and the fire in his light eyes made everything so eerie, dreamlike. He took another step closer and she had a small gasp.

"Narcissa?" he called in a low voice.

Shaking a little, she nodded, and lost herself to his kiss.


	11. Undisclosed Desires

**And here is chapter eleven! Features more Lucissa, and some Bellatrix-related drama (more to come in later chapters). Hopefully you're all enjoying the ride! Chapter title comes from the song by Muse, of course.**

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><p>The owl's talon knocked against her window, twice, then twice again, and Cissy remained motionless just a minute longer, until she could not delay it anymore.<p>

Numbly, she crossed the room and let the bird in, slowly unbinding the silvery cord that tied a parchment to its leg. The animal fluffed its feathers, eyed her haughtily and flew off. Even their owls had such attitude. Narcissa shut the window after a quick peer towards the clouds, but the dark shape was already gone. She smoothed over her dress, checked her loose hair in the mirror and quickly averted her eyes. Any distraction would be welcome, yet none could do. Her fingers shook as she broke his seal and unrolled the parchment. She took a seat.

_Dear Narcissa, _

_I hope you are well and you had a good night's rest. _

_After such a pleasant evening as yesterday's, I have to confess a strong desire to see you again, and I certainly hope that the feeling is mutual. If the idea pleases you, perhaps we could agree on meeting in Diagon Alley some afternoon, before the ball which is to take place at the Selwyns' in two weeks. Do let me know whether you would appreciate my company on such an occasion – and if so, when you will find yourself available. _

_With my warmest regards, _

_Lucius. _

Narcissa's fingers were shaking as she held on tighter to the letter, anxiously deciphering the familiar penmanship. She did not know what to make of her emotions at the moment; there was relief, certainly, and yet the anxiety that had plagued her ever since she had woken was not truly soothed. It couldn't be denied that Lucius enjoyed her company, enough to write so early after they had parted; whether he was truly so eager to see her as soon as possible, or whether he had guessed that she would fall prey to uncertainty and anguish in the morning, she couldn't tell. But he wished to carry on with what they had started the day before, that much was certain.

Cissy leapt to her feet and paced the room, her heart hammering. None of this felt real – for years she had known Lucius Malfoy, for months they had been corresponding, and now… She could not put her mind to rest; some fierce disbelief held her and kept rational thought at bay. She forced herself to stop, breathe deeply, put down the parchment her tense fingers were abusing.

If she closed her eyes, she could feel his kisses again, his arms around her waist. It had been real, and it had been her. He'd wanted _her_. And she, Narcissa Black, was more than worthy of Lucius Malfoy – doubting it would have been ludicrous. What then? She sat at her desk, and seized a quill and a piece of parchment.

_Dear Lucius, _

_I would be delighted to see you again. I can certainly find a spare afternoon for this purpose. How about we meet in three days in Diagon Alley? Would that suit you? _

_Looking forward to seeing you soon,_

_With all my affection, _

_Narcissa _

Cissy leaned back, rereading her response. She would have to make sure her family agreed, of course – but that could be arranged. A three-day delay was excellent – not too distant, not too rushed. It would not do to appear frantic. Swiftly, she rolled up the letter, sealed it and left her bedroom to fetch an owl.

The corridors were silent except for her quiet footsteps. Narcissa headed straight to the room on the second floor where the family's owls were kept in a large, comfortable cage. None of their hooting could disturb anyone while they were up there, and the facilities were, obviously, kept perfectly clean. Cissy shuddered a little at the thought of keeping an owl in her own bedroom. Carefully, she tied her letter to the leg of one of the birds, and sent it off. She leaned briefly against the wall, sighing. This much was done.

It would be midday soon; although it was tacitly accepted that everybody might rest and not come down for breakfast after a ball or some other late-night social event, lunch was something else entirely and Cissy knew she would have no excuses not to attend. Besides, perhaps it would be best to tell her parents right away about Lucius and her plans. Her mother would probably be delighted; after all, the Malfoys were so influential. As for her father… she didn't know. Surely he would be happy for her, and he had no reason to be opposed to the match.

She realized she was hungry. She did not clearly recall when she had eaten last; preparing for the ball had turned everything into a blur. Now there was a distant tugging at the pit of her stomach. She checked the time and walked slowly down the stairs.

Narcissa knocked swiftly on the dining room's door before she let herself in. Her mother was sitting there in her usual chair, but she was alone and had the _Daily Prophet_ in her hands. It felt odd to see her like this. There was a small frown between her eyebrows, and she did not look up at once.

"Ah, Narcissa!" she eventually called. "Come, come, my dear, lunch will be served soon."

"Where is Father?" Cissy asked as she took a seat.

Druella's frown slightly deepened. "He had to go to London, it seems that there are matters he had to discuss with Arcturus and the other elders of the family. He will be back later today, to be sure."

"Oh." Narcissa nodded, looking down at her empty plate. "Just the two of us, then," she commented pointlessly.

"Indeed, darling." Druella set down the paper and snapped her fingers once. Shortly, food materialized on their dishes, sent from the kitchen by their house-elf. Narcissa picked up her fork slowly.

"It seems to me that you had a good time last night?" her mother inquired after a few minutes spent eating in silence. "Regardless, I think it went quite well. Nobody seemed to take offense, or indeed any unnecessary interest, in our being the only remaining Blacks at the end, and you always do make such a wonderful impression on the ladies, my dear."

Narcissa looked up, and fixed a smile on her lips. "I am glad, Mother." She went back to dutifully cutting and rearranging her helping of chicken and mushrooms, taking small bites and chewing carefully.

"The ball was quite lovely," she went on in a measured tone. "And the hosts as well."

Druella had a short little laugh. "Of course they were."

"In fact," Narcissa pushed, not glancing up, "I had the occasion of bonding a little further with Lucius Malfoy."

There was a beat of silence. "How interesting," her mother said slowly. "When you say bonding… What do you mean, precisely, by that?"

Heat flooded her cheeks. She swallowed hard. "I believe he might be interested in me, Mother," she uttered. "He owled me today."

"Really! How wonderful!" Druella cried. She set down her cutlery with a clink, and Cissy felt her eyes upon her face. She met her mother's gaze, alight with excitement. "This is marvellous, dear. Lucius Malfoy seems to be a very fine young man, and what a name for your first suitor!"

_Suitor_. The word sounded so odd somehow. Cissy forced a smile. "He wishes to see me again soon," she started again, knowing she had to finish her account. "In three days, probably, in Diagon Alley. I thought you would not mind."

"Not at all," Druella assured her. "Certainly not. I am very proud of you, darling."

Cissy smiled. "It is settled then," she murmured. Following her mother's example, she set down her knife and fork and took a sip of water.

Druella appeared very animated for the rest of the meal, talking quickly with a satisfied glow in her eyes. Narcissa absently listened, slightly soothed by her mother's openly manifested pleasure and apparent lack of any worry regarding the future of such a promising acquaintance. She still felt quite uncertain, but her restlessness was easing somehow, replaced by weariness. Toying idly with her dessert, she thought briefly of her father, and of Bella, but dismissed the concerns to be addressed more thoroughly later.

Cygnus did not reappear until late in the afternoon. After spending a little while with her mother, Cissy had retreated to her bedroom, where she had first attempted to read, then, acknowledging her inability to focus, taken a few hours' rest to compensate for the shortness of her night. She thus did not see him again before dinnertime, where he appeared silent and grave-looking. The meal was a quiet affair; Druella did not even mention Lucius, nor inquire about her husband's day, and Narcissa opted to follow her example, sitting there without a word as her worries all came back to the surface.

She sought her father out later, and found him in the library, by the fireplace. A stack of newspapers was lying before him, but he was not reading; he stared into the flames instead, seemingly lost in thought, faraway and quite out of reach. All the same, Cissy cleared her throat quietly, clinging to her determination.

"I brought you coffee, Father."

He blinked up at her. "Oh. Thank you, my dear."

He rubbed his eyelids as she sat by his side, setting a cup in front of him and cradling her own into the palms of her hands. "Short night?" she said softly, sidetracked by concern.

"Mmm." He took a sip of warm liquid and sighed. Then he threw her a glance. "I see that you could not put your mind to rest, either."

"Despite your request," she added, guessing his meaning. She straightened up a little, her stomach clenching as she sensed, from his words and his tired, resigned gaze, that she was being offered a chance to discuss what had been kept from her before – a chance that would surely not come twice. Her initial intentions of telling him about Lucius were promptly forgotten. "You are quite right," she murmured. "I have too many questions."

"Which ones?"

She hesitated, thrown off balance by the suddenness of this shift, yet knowing that she could afford no postponement.

"Perhaps… perhaps, in fact, they are not questions. Just vague concerns, feelings I wouldn't be able to put into words." She forced a laugh. "Now you must think me to be a silly little girl."

"Not at all," he whispered. "You notice much more than I gave you credit for." Another sip, another sigh. "But you see, Narcissa, there are many things you are helpless against. What is the point, then, of a knowledge that disturbs and hurts?"

"Perhaps not much," she said, "but I am fairly certain, at the moment, that secrecy does not protect me either."

He turned, and fully faced her. "Do you wish to know where I went today?"

"Yes, please."

"I had to talk to the family. About the company your sister keeps – and the activities she gets involved in. I think I have let things go for far too long, with lack of knowledge as my excuse, and something must be done before it is too late."

Narcissa sucked in a breath. "What is wrong with her, Father?"

He did not reply at once. "I think your sister has been looking for a purpose," he eventually spoke. "But purposes are dangerous things to seek when one is desperate. Cling to the wrong one, and you shall be lost."

"I… don't think I understand."

She watched him squeeze his eyes shut, and slowly reopen them. "There has been trouble lately. Attacks, actions led by small groups fighting against the… increasing importance and rights of Mudbloods – defending the supremacy of the pureblooded. Excellent ideas, but the wrong methods… In the past year, they have been more and more active, more and more ambitious. Everything is linked, it is now certain. And I believe that Bellatrix has joined this organization somehow."

Cissy was quiet for a while. Her first reaction was disbelief. Her eyes fell upon the newspapers on the coffee table, then drifted towards the flames. Her throat dry, she watched them dance. Surely Cygnus was mistaken. This was just too _huge_, too foreign a concept; the idea of Bellatrix involved in such business was simply ludicrous. Rash groups, her mother had said. Extremists. Bella would never run with such crowds – yet what could keep her? Propriety? Caution? Her sex?

"How?" she whispered.

"She isn't alone," Cygnus said darkly. "Among young people, there is quite a trend these days. The Lestrange family, particularly, seems to approve of this… group – or Duncan Lestrange does, at the very least. Nott, too, I believe… They must have a leader, whose identity I could not find out… It is all strangely organized for such a movement… A powerful hand is behind all this, I wouldn't doubt. Anyway, her husband or his friends only needed to introduce her… Knowing her, I am afraid it would be all that was required."

"You talked to her," Narcissa suddenly recalled. She leaned towards her father, speaking faster, more urgently; she nearly spilled her coffee in her lap. "Did she admit it? Did she tell you anything?"

"She fiercely denied," Cygnus replied soberly. "Neither her eyes, nor her fury could lie, however."

Cissy swallowed hard. "Then you are sure?"

"Quite sure, as much as I wish the contrary."

Narcissa closed her eyes briefly, and wrapped her arms around herself, setting aside her cup. She knew now, she told herself. Her father knew, he would be able to do something. Bella would be brought back to reason.

"Narcissa." She felt his hand on her knee before she opened her eyelids again. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she breathed. She met his gaze for a second, and then glanced away.

"I… think I'll leave you now. I am a little tired," she spoke too quickly and a bit too high.

He did not object, and she rose, eager to be alone. "Narcissa," she heard, again, as her hand found the doorknob.

She paused. "Yes?"

"Perhaps you are more like me than I ever suspected," he told the dimness and the flames in the hearth.

Her heart hammering, she slipped out hastily, unsure she understood and not trusting her voice regardless.

* * *

><p>"Merlin help me, be careful!"<p>

Narcissa stumbled backwards, her slim fingers closing tightly around the banister. Her father shook his head at her, bewildered. "I did not know I was inconspicuous enough for young maidens to walk right into me without the slightest alarm. Or maybe it is you who are rather too preoccupied to be allowed outside without great risk."

"Oh, Father, you would not be so cruel. You know I must be off," Cissy protested, and he nodded, though a slight wrinkling of his nose told her that he had half a mind to keep her anyway. She offered him, with a little effort, her sweetest smile. "I promise I shall be careful."

"Very well." He kissed her forehead, and let her go. She blamed his reluctance on his weariness, and a prejudice against the Malfoy family, easily transposed from father to son; but it was promptly forgotten as she dashed down the stairs. A brief pang of guilt occupied her next, for perhaps she would be missing news from Bella, by leaving the house all afternoon – then again, if the news had not come thus far, they might do later, or not at all. They had heard, in the course of three days, of nothing but a most graceless delaying of Arcturus' summon, that had been requesting Bellatrix's presence to Grimmauld Place so they might discuss her recent activities. This concern, in turn, faded to the background of Cissy's mind once a fire was lit in the drawing room's hearth and she managed to shorten her mother's recommendations, under the claim of avoiding lateness. Punctual she should be, indeed.

Narcissa was swift to cross the Leaky Cauldron and find, at the back of the pub, the entrance to the familiar wizarding street. Diagon Alley was not crowded at this point of the season; she found it quiet and sunny, the weather quite warm. She hurried off towards Gringotts, before which Lucius and herself had agreed to meet.

He was already there when she arrived, and stepped forward to greet her. There was a split second of uncertainty; then Lucius, taking her hand, gallantly brushed his lips to its back. These respects once done with, he leaned in and their mouths met briefly, in a kiss she much preferred.

"How have you been since the ball, then?" he asked as they began strolling around, their fingers entangled.

Narcissa hesitated, the past few days flashing through her mind. "Quite well, thank you," she lied as smoothly as she could, "and yourself?"

He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, but did not comment. "Likewise."

They chatted quietly, on and off, as they wandered the streets; silence felt comfortable, in an odd manner, with the sun on their backs and him by her side. She found herself breathing slowly, deeply, and holding on more tightly to his hand. His eyes moved lazily to and fro and often flicked back to her. She met them almost each time, at the cost of many a blush.

They ended up in a small café, more discreet and more select than Florian Fortescue's. Despite the increasing heat, Cissy expressed the desire to settle down indoors, and Lucius agreed with good grace. Walking the streets with him might have felt strange and yet natural, as though her belonging to his side were a simple reality that could rouse no questioning; but to sit sipping a drink for every passer-by to see, this she did not feel quite comfortable with.

"You should try their pastries," he suggested as they chose drinks from a tasteful-looking menu, "they are marvellous."

"Oh, it is really too hot to be very hungry," she dismissed him with a laugh.

"You will taste mine, then. I cannot possibly take you here, and not make you try these, that would be a crime," he added teasingly. "They are positively sinful."

She swallowed and worked hard to keep her smile in place. "And where indeed did you hear that ladies may be sinful, Mr Malfoy?"

"It can be our secret." He smiled at her, eyes gleaming, but did not push the subject.

A pretty, pleasant waitress took their orders, and within moments Cissy was sipping a fruity cocktail, while Lucius raised his glass of rosé wine to her. There was a cake between them on a porcelain plate, with a knife and a white napkin. It distracted her, made her want to look away. She could not escape the rich sweetness of the scent, chocolate and coffee subtly mixed.

"Do you like the place?" Lucius inquired softly.

"Very much," she responded immediately. "I had never come here before, but I certainly shall now. This is lovely."

He smiled. "I thought you would appreciate," he murmured. Clearing his throat, he added: "I have wanted to take you here for a little while. It suits you."

"Really?"

"Really. Quiet, and refined."

She looked down with a little smile. "Thank you."

"Quite welcome." He reached out and she had a tiny jolt, suddenly conscious that her two hands were wrapped around her tall glass; but he had simply picked up the knife. Narcissa's eyes traced the inclination of his wrist and the elegant curve of the silver blade as it bit into the brown surface, and he carefully cut the pastry into thin slices. None of them spoke a word until he was done.

"Are you still reluctant?" he asked lightly then. "Gallantly demands the lady should come first."

"No, go ahead," she replied in equally breezy tones. "I will have a taste later."

He took a small bite. Narcissa usually preferred averting her gaze from eating individuals; yet her eyes flickered to Lucius' lips, before studying the whole of his face. His collected enjoyment held nothing of hunger's raw, primal brutality; he savoured his treat calmly, and she suddenly envied the sense of confidence that oozed from his every attitude. Her fingers tightened around her drink. The lighting was dim, shutters shielding them from the sun, and they seemed quite alone at their secluded table. Cissy set down her glass.

"May I have some?" she dared. The words sounded considerably more shocking, out there, than they had within her mind – _bolder_ –, but there was no going back, which was exactly what she'd wanted. Lucius smiled at her.

"Naturally," he said, and lightly pushed the plate her way. She bit her cheek. The next few words would be hardest.

"Shall you give me a piece?" she uttered, too fast to sound quite natural. His lips stretched further upwards. She saw him pick a tiny slice of the pastry, and blinked rapidly, leaning forward. She wanted to try this – sharing this with Lucius, a small moment of pleasure, of abandon, and knowing it wasn't wrong. _It's not wrong,_ she thought, _why should it be wrong? Only one tiny bit, just one, think – why would just one be wrong?_

His fingers reached her mouth before she could form any kind of reasoning. He gave her the fragment of cake, barely brushing her lips as he withdrew, leaned forwards as well and gazing intently at her. She felt the sponge, soft under her teeth, and the rich chocolate flavour of the ganache; it washed, compelling, over her taste buds. Narcissa chewed slowly, looking down again. She could feel Lucius' eyes upon her face, then he pointedly glanced away and had a sip of wine.

"It's delicious," she murmured, fearing her voice would sound off or hoarse. Lucius' next smile was short-lived. They locked gazes for a few seconds.

He reached out and took her hand.

All the while as they sat there talking – the cake lying untouched between them –, Cissy was very aware of his fingers wrapped around her own, holding lightly, but firmly on to her. He claimed her hand again later as they rushed out, having lost track of time, and had to hurry back to the Leaky Cauldron where they might Floo home. In the deserted back, he kept her for a moment, his free hand cupping her neck as he kissed her goodbye. Cissy felt like she was being claimed, in the most imperious though respectful kind of way. It was dizzying, and not quite unpleasant.

"I will see you soon," he said with that certainty that kept striking her. "I'll owl you before the next ball." She agreed in a whisper. He had a small laugh as his lips brushed against her temple.

"What?" she murmured.

"You may want to know… for future reference… that Hedone's café, the place I took you today, offers access to the Floo network."

She blinked, craning her neck to look at him. "Then why… why did we have to rush all the way back here?"

He smirked, his eyes glinting. "Because – and I hope you will find it in you to forgive my selfishness – I was not going to hand you over quite so soon."

Cissy courageously attempted to glare, but soon her mouth was trembling with suppressed laughter, and he pulled her against him one more time, his fingers pressed to her burning cheeks, his lips soft and fierce upon hers.


	12. Hurricane

**Here is the new chapter, named after the song by Thirty Seconds To Mars. No Lucissa in that one, sorry, but Lucius will appear again in the next ;) Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Lestrange Hall did not look different in the slightest.<p>

Walking up the drive that led to the house, Narcissa dimly wondered whether her father had felt as strange, as puzzled, unsure, helpless as she now did, while he followed the same path just the day before. She recalled the tension of his jaw when he had bleakly told her the latest news – that Bella had come and talked to Arcturus, to no avail; that Cygnus had visited her, to no avail. Narcissa hardly believed that her own attempt would prove any more useful, and yet abandoning was unthinkable. She knocked lightly on the great wooden doors, which swung open before her.

The foyer looked wide and dark, and she could hear the echo of her own footsteps. She hovered there for a moment, even more disturbed by the lack of any reception. Eventually, as she was stepping forward hesitantly, a door opened and somebody came out.

Cissy gasped a little, and then caught herself. It was not her sister who was staring silently at her, but her brother-in-law. Rodolphus raised an eyebrow. "Hello, Narcissa," he said. "I see that the whole family is strongly feeling the purpose of an amicable visit these days."

She swallowed, her mouth opening and closing. She had always thought Rodolphus to be quite unsettling; now, however, as she gazed upon his face, she found herself recalling many small details, some quite recent, some years prior. She felt dizzy.

"You knew we would end up figuring things out," she said automatically. _Rodolphus' eyes sweeping over each one of their faces, looking for a reaction, a hint_. "You always knew."

"I was expecting it," he admitted without reservation. "Your father is a clever man."

She set her jaw. "Is Bella home?" she asked.

He bowed slightly, wryly. "If you will follow me."

She stepped after him into the drawing room. Bellatrix stood by the window; she turned as she heard them, but did not come any closer. Rodolphus reclined in an armchair and motioned for Cissy to do the same. She preferred remaining upright, however, her hands finding the back of a sofa for support.

Bella did not seem quite sure what to say. "Why did you come?" she eventually uttered.

Narcissa blinked, shocked and taken off guard. "I had to see you," she blurted. "Did you really _think_ I'd stay away?"

"You're not coming without a purpose," Bella said impatiently, waving aside her exclamation. "You didn't have to, don't be ridiculous. You don't do politics. This is none of your business."

"You're not even denying it anymore," she murmured.

"Of course not. After my little spat with Arcturus, the mystery is unveiled, I wouldn't doubt. If you are here, then someone told you what's going on, someone who knows exactly what they're doing – wagering that the little sister's tears will do what the elders' mighty word could not."

There Narcissa had to sit, and Bellatrix snorted like it were a comedy – a lie – with a quick, angry shake of her head. Once the first shock had subsided, a stronger wrath flared hot in its place. Cissy looked up. "You're wrong," she said harshly. "They see me as a little girl, or perhaps an aspirant lady, still in the making, who would do well to remain in her place – but not as an instrument, the way _you _seem to."

It was Bella's turn to be lost for words, though she pulled herself together rapidly. "So, have you come to ask me to stop?" she inquired. "Or to let me know that I'm being an embarrassment to the family? I've already been told all of that."

"You've only just stopped lying to me, and you're accusing me next," Narcissa said, struggling to sound calm and dignified.

"But don't you see you were better off not knowing?" Bellatrix had a shrill, mirthless laugh. "I can see fear in your eyes now, when you look at me."

"Fear for you!"

"Are you quite sure?" Bella stalked closer, forcing Narcissa to lean backwards. "What did you feel when you learned the truth, little sister? Were you frightened? Disgusted? Appalled? Didn't you consider, even for a moment, that I might be right?"

"Stop." Cissy was starting to shake, her legs, her hands, her whole body was trembling. "Bella, stop. Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down, and don't tell me to _stop_!" Suddenly, it seemed that Bellatrix was shaking just as hard as she was. "I can't stop," she whispered. "I've made my choice."

She could hear Rodolphus shift, but she did not look at him, taking in her sister's white face instead. "What's keeping you?" she asked.

Bella's mouth twisted. "I've made my choice," she repeated. "I've given my loyalty. I'm fighting for my blood, Cissy, for our birthright. I've committed myself to a new era, a great change – to the Dark Lord…"

Narcissa blinked. "Who? Who is the Dark Lord?"

Rodolphus was up in a flash. "I think that's enough," he spoke in a low voice. He looked straight into his wife's eyes. "You've told her enough. She will or won't understand, but that will do."

Bellatrix's head bobbed abruptly. "Fine," she breathed. Of all things, Narcissa was bewildered by her sister's obedience, which roused an unexpected rush of rage towards Rodolphus from the depths of her. Bella stepped back and dropped into a seat. Cissy stood impulsively, and walked forward, ignoring her brother-in-law.

"I don't know what you're doing," she whispered. "I don't know what or whom you're fighting for, and yes, I'm scared. But I'm scared of losing my sister. I'm scared you'll get hurt. I'm scared you'll abandon me."

Bella blinked up at her. "I don't expect you to understand," she replied a bit hoarsely. "But I'm not going anywhere. It doesn't have to change anything, not between us…"

She hardly sounded like she believed what she was saying, but Narcissa still knelt at her level and gripped her hand. "Do you promise?" she whispered.

Bellatrix swallowed convulsively. "I promise," she muttered. "And you?"

"Of course I promise."

Rodolphus snorted lightly, amused. "Sweet."

"Shut up," Bellatrix mumbled, and Cissy thought about Rabastan. The Lestrange brothers probably did not have the same problem.

Squeezing Bella's cold fingers, she remembered that secrecy and bitterness had already cost her a sibling.

* * *

><p>Narcissa was doing her hair when Lucius' owl arrived. Rushing to the window to let it in, she dimly thought that her reaction now could not have been different to the one she'd had after the ball. What was more, she was growing quite used to the bird, and the bird to her – and of course, she was getting <em>very <em>used to regular letters from Lucius. A smile briefly grazed her lips as she recalled the first one; it had been waiting for her when she came home from Lestrange Hall, a most prized comfort.

Cissy's eyes only briefly scanned the missive, before she put it aside to be read later. She hardly had the time at the moment. Resuming her flutter of activity, she was promptly finished, and rushed downstairs to meet her parents. Very shortly, they would all be leaving for Grimmauld Place, where a family gathering was scheduled.

Her father was alone in the drawing room when she walked in, the _Prophet_ in his hand. Narcissa's stomach had a twist at the frown on his face. "Anything interesting?" she called.

He glanced up at her. "Always the same," he responded. Shaking his head slightly, he put the _Prophet _down. "They are speculating about the name of the leader."

She did not need to ask what leader he was alluding to. "Oh," Narcissa murmured. "Who is the Dark Lord?" she asked quickly, remembering Bella's words.

Cygnus raised his eyebrows. "So she let this slip with you, too." He sighed. "It would seem that it is what his followers call him… I doubt that Bella would have come up with the name on her own, and it seems enigmatic and awe-inspiring, which is exactly the effect they are going for, as far as I can see. The actual name of the man is unknown. He has only been seen a few times, carefully chosen – the most striking and symbolic. A gaunt, dark-looking silhouette with a stunningly powerful aura, they say… It is all flawlessly planned out so far, and bearing fruit. The idea of him is beginning to frighten the masses. Rumour has it that his name is secret and ill-cursed. Of course, it allows him to keep his true identity concealed, for reasons only he is aware of – though I cannot imagine your sister ever working for anybody less than pureblood, let alone Duncan Lestrange and some other old families who seem to approve of his actions. Some are starting to simply call him You-Know-Who." He snorted.

"That is quite odd."

"Part of a larger strategy, and all meant to plant seeds of fear into mundane minds and the public opinion. This tactic with the name works surprisingly well. The whole group has used it before: never quite stepping out into the open, creating an atmosphere of anxiety and mistrust, leaving people to speculate as to their identities and aims. It makes their impact all the greater… At the beginning, the name that went around was the Knights of Walpurgis, an organization based on old legends and traditions, revived and thirsting for blood… Then their movement became more defined… They call themselves Death Eaters now."

Cissy shuddered, taken off guard. "It sounds… strange. Frightening."

"Does it not?" Cygnus had a disillusioned smile. "The man standing behind this must master the art of fear, and manipulating the minds. There is an aesthetic quality there, a symbolism… The mark that started appearing recently, for instance. A skull and a snake – the crest of Slytherin, champion of the pure of blood. And this name, the _Dark Lord_… the way your sister speaks it…" He shook his head, his jaw rigid.

"We ought to be going."

Narcissa started violently, whirling around. She had not heard her mother step into the room behind her. Druella, pale and tight-lipped, walked past her youngest child and wordlessly summoned the box of Floo powder. Cygnus stood, folding his paper, and gestured for Narcissa to go first. She stepped forward, into the flames her mother had just lit.

When she arrived in the drawing room of 12, Grimmauld Place, it was already populated. Her first cousin twice removed and her grandfather, Arcturus and Pollux, as well as their wives, were seated with her uncle Orion. Her aunt Walburga was pacing the room, and seemingly telling off Sirius, who leant against the wall with a rebellious expression on his face. Regulus was in the corner, looking about with an air of shyness mixed with excitement.

"Here you are!" Walburga called. Druella and Cygnus stepped in after Cissy, and brother and sister briefly embraced. "Alphard said he would not be able to come," she commented as they parted. "He is in Russia or someplace similar."

"How surprising," Cygnus responded wryly.

Arcturus had stood, looking imposing and cold. "Your eldest is late," he spoke.

"She will come."

"I hope so, if she still respects the family at all." Narcissa stiffened. She spotted Sirius leaning forward, frowning. Apparently, the boys could sense the tension in the room just as well as she could, guess that something was off, but had been given no further hint.

There was a whooshing sound from the hearth, and they all turned swiftly, just in time for Bellatrix's appearance. Narcissa immediately noticed her sister's squared jaw and the harsh, determined glint of her black eyes. "Good day, everyone," she spoke flatly, after a few beats of silence.

"Bellatrix," Arcturus said coldly.

Cissy felt ill at ease, disturbed by the intensity of the focus converging on her sister. She glanced aside, and Sirius drew her attention again. He seemed restless, frustrated, and was peering intently at Bella. As for Regulus, he appeared bothered by the strain they all seemed to be under, too; apart from Narcissa, he was the only one looking away.

"There is no reason to remain standing there," Arcturus said in a low, authoritative voice, making Cissy jump. "Walburga, let us have lunch."

"Of course," she replied stiffly, leading the way to the dining room. The whole family followed.

Narcissa found herself sitting between Regulus and her distant cousin, Melania. From where she was, she could see Bellatrix clearly, but she stared at her empty plate instead. The table filled silently, and Arcturus gave a toast for the Black family before the meal began.

It was a quiet event. The pressure in the room seemed to be mounting higher and higher – but nobody spoke a word to shatter the ice. Between two courses, Cissy accidentally met Walburga's burning gaze. She seemed to be dying to send her children from the room already. Regulus, who kept his head bowed low, except for a few furtive glances around the table, gave the impression that he would have skipped dessert and hurried off gladly enough, despite his obvious curiosity. Sirius, however, appeared to be getting almost as irritated as his mother. He was visibly struggling to meet Bella's gaze, but the latter paid him no mind, and Walburga eventually rebuked him, sharply commanding that he sit straight.

By the time they were done with lunch, the tension could have been cut with a knife and the lump in Cissy's throat was such that it made the sheer notion of any more food impossible. At a tiniest nod of Arcturus' head, Orion stood from the opposite end of the table. "Narcissa, would you mind taking the boys to the lounge upstairs?" Walburga asked sharply.

"I am sure an elf could look after them," Cygnus swiftly interceded. They both turned towards Arcturus, indifferent to Sirius' indignant cry.

The family elder nodded, his gaze weighty upon Narcissa's face. "She may remain, with her mother."

Walburga scowled, turning away. "Boys, upstairs," she ordered. "Kreacher will watch you. You are not to leave the room, under any circumstance. With me now, quick."

"I want to stay!" Sirius roared, unmoving, as his mother strode to the door. "I want to know what's going on! I'm old enough – I'm going to Hogwarts!" He shouted it like it were an amulet against the adults' will.

"There will be no talking back, young man," Walburga hissed, and Orion boomed: "Obey your mother this instant, boy, and be grateful your insolence will be tolerated this once. Out of my sight!"

Sirius stood straight and still for a few more seconds, quivering with rage. Then, with a half-yelled profanity that made Narcissa wince, he stomped out of the room. Judging on Walburga's murderous glare, the boy might have to regret his outburst quite shortly. He had blatantly inherited her fearsome temper.

Regulus scurried off after his brother, then Cissy followed the adults back to the drawing room, her hands shaking slightly. The family elders – Arcturus and Pollux, Irma and Melania – took seats, but the others remained standing. Bellatrix strode arrogantly to the middle of the room, her gaze defiant and her mouth a tight line. The door slammed, marking Walburga's return – it made Narcissa wince. "Well," Bella called out, "unless I am very much mistaken, it is me you all wished to discuss. Shall we get on with it, then?"

"Control your vanity, child," Arcturus responded darkly. "The family had planned this gathering long before you opted to make a disgrace of yourself."

"And yet you brought it forward, didn't you? Why is that, I wonder?" Bellatrix sneered, her gaze challenging him.

Cissy frowned, biting her lips as Walburga shrilly cut in and the quarrel became more animated. Bellatrix's outrageousness should not have surprised her. She had always been dismissive of traditions, claiming the young generation deserved no less respect and rights than the elders, for their blood, equally pure, was all that mattered; however, Narcissa knew that her sister would not have willingly disrespected Arcturus. The man embodied their family's standing and pride, a living symbol with his charisma, his commanding voice and his aura of strength and authority. Cissy feared him; Sirius was wary, Regulus in awe of him. Her sister respected him. And yet she was shouting at him now, in the name of this _Dark Lord_ of hers. Some figure this might be, if his ideals had turned such a girl as Bellatrix Black against her very family. A chill raced down Narcissa's spine.

"Make her stop," she breathed, very low. Druella twitched at her side.

"You can't order me anything," Bellatrix was telling her father passionately. "I am _married_. Exactly what you wanted, wasn't it? Only my husband has authority to question my choices. And my husband supports me."

"Your husband is a fool and his whole family as well," Pollux replied harshly. "Who is this man you are following? I suppose he must be pure, so why does he feel the need to hide his name?"

"A murderer, of course," Melania muttered. "A criminal – why else all this secrecy?"

"His name will be known and feared in good time," Bella said fiercely. "He is pure, and powerful – the purest of them all. If only you knew –"

"Let him speak to us, then," Orion cut in impatiently. "If he truly is mighty and pure –"

"Have you lost your mind, cousin?" Arcturus hissed. "His methods are the wrong ones. We have influence over this Ministry he wishes to overthrow! How would he defend the interests of the pure? It is his own personal dominion he is after!"

"And rightfully so!" Bella exclaimed. "The Dark Lord will rule, and the purebloods will get the respect we truly deserve, at last! We will get rid of the plague of Mudbloods!"

"A child's dream," Irma said haughtily. "There are too many of this filth. If we want to control them, we must act cleverly, keep them at bay, under a false sense of security. Your rash plots will only threaten our reign."

"You don't understand!" Bellatrix's voice was getting louder and shriller. "You are old and content with sitting there and pulling strings, satisfied with whatever influence you have, but you cannot keep the scum from _breeding_! Think of your children! You will be thankful when the Dark Lord's revolution saves us all from rotting in an ocean of impurities!"

"Don't speak of the children you haven't borne," Melania snapped with malice. "None of us really expected you to be a true lady, Bellatrix, but at least we hoped you would remain dignified. Look at you, throwing yourself at the feet of the first radical upstart, screeching senselessly to make yourself heard. You disgust me, daughter of the Blacks."

Bellatrix reeled back; she struggled to answer, but only a scream of frustration erupted from her shaking lips. Whirling around, she whipped out her wand. The men gripped theirs and Cissy cried out in shock, but Bella made a sharp sweeping motion, and the vase of Floo powder on the mantlepiece exploded; fire flared to life, flashing green.

"Stay right where you are!" Cygnus bellowed, but Bellatrix was already across the room, and then gone.

Narcissa stumbled back. Her hands found the wall for support. Pollux sighed; Arcturus shook his head darkly. Cygnus was staring blankly after his eldest daughter. Druella reached a trembling hand to her youngest.

Cissy shut her eyes tightly, hoping to block everything out.


	13. Stand By Me

**Here you go, chapter 13 - title is from the song by Ben E. King.**

* * *

><p>When Narcissa came home from Grimmauld Place, she sat at her desk with a piece of parchment, and a quill that quivered between her tense fingers.<p>

She scribbled Lucius' name at first, and then crossed it out. Panic swelled within her chest as she considered: she could not possibly tell him that her sister was involved with a group of extremists, that her family was in a commotion. Slytherin knew what he would think… What then? She needed _someone_ to know, she _needed _to throw all of the anguish in her heart onto this parchment, and feel a supportive presence in return. Someone… someone who wouldn't judge.

Taking another roll, she wrote hesitantly: _Dear Cassie_.

She had no clue where to start. Forcing out sentence after sentence, she remained scrawling and crossing out well into the evening, neglecting to come down for dinner. She knew her mother would not call for her, remembered strongly her shaky voice as she had told her to "go upstairs and rest, dearest"; she knew her father would be locked in the study, alone. Narcissa scribbled a loose succession of half-implied truths and confessions of her distraught state, trying to hold the guilt and shame at bay. She was doing a wrong, but her friend was a nobody in society, and yet pure: as close to safe as Cissy might ever get. She mentioned Lucius, once, then again, twice more throughout the missive. She sealed it shut hastily, before she could change her mind, and called a house-elf to have it sent. Then she collapsed on the bed.

The next day seemed to pass in a blur. Narcissa tried, several times, to write a response to Lucius' previous letter; but every word sounded fake to her, and she could most definitely not tell him anything this way, she was sure of it now – the fear of his reaction, added to the necessity of a delay, would be way too much for her to handle. Perhaps face to face, she could see how things went; and thankfully, there was a ball scheduled on the morrow. She dismissed her current anxieties the best she could, and focused instead on fussing over her dress.

The gown had been picked out a while ago, and changing it was out of the question. It was sleeveless and slightly shorter than her usual, falling mid-shin, or perhaps a tad higher – but the troubling part was its colour, a rich, bloody, vivid red. As she walked up the drive that led to the Selwyns' large house with her parents, thinking to herself that Apparition and Floo were equally unpleasant means of travel after all, Cissy felt outrageously conspicuous; it did not improve in the hallway's bright lights, to say the least. She forced a graceful smile, determined to look good and honour her family, no matter what.

Almost as soon as she walked into the ballroom, Narcissa came across Lucius. He blinked several times at the sight of her dress, which did not settle her worries in the slightest.

"Narcissa, here you are!" he called.

She walked up to him slowly, and he kissed her hand, then her lips, lightly and chastely. "I was looking for you," he said. "This gown… Red suits you."

Her face immediately flushed crimson; she had a feeling that had not been what he meant, though she valiantly strived to convince herself that a bit more colour might do her no harm. She didn't blush _quite _so easily most of the time – or with most people. It was definitely Lucius' fault.

"Thank you," she murmured. "You look quite handsome too." He flashed a smile.

"I was intrigued to see that you hadn't replied to my letter yet," he went on as she perched on the arm he was offering her. "Of course, I figured you were probably busy. I'm afraid I am growing fearfully demanding – though your indulgence does bear part of the blame, that goes without saying."

"Oh, but one might very well enjoy graciousness without taking it for granted in the slightest," Narcissa retorted lightly. "Perhaps you should see fit to correct yourself, Mr Malfoy."

"I shall endeavour in this direction, then. I would emphasize those words with a bow, if there weren't a young lady clinging very tightly to my arm at present."

She had a small laugh. "Why do you not tell her to correct _herself_, in that case, and let you go?"

"Merlin help me, I'm not quite sure I want her to."

Giggling, Narcissa felt considerably lighter as they reached the buffet and he gallantly handed her a drink, before helping himself to a glass of wine.

"How is your family?" he asked, taking a sip.

Cissy, who had been doing the same thing, swallowed too fast and coughed. "Why do you ask?" she retorted quickly.

He appeared taken aback. "It was merely a polite concern."

Narcissa bit her lip, panicking a little at her own overreaction. "My father… has been a bit sick. He feels better now, though," she blurted out, coldness and disbelief spreading through her as she heard those deceiving words as though they came from a stranger. She couldn't see a way out now, couldn't confess that she had spontaneously invented a story to ease his suspicions… The only option she had was to carry on with her lie.

Lucius nodded. "I am sorry." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She felt her face burn.

"Shall we dance?" she suggested, hoping to avoid further conversation.

Lucius appeared surprised again, but did not comment on her sudden eagerness. "Certainly," he merely said, and set down his half-full glass, which promptly vanished. Narcissa did the same.

She could feel eyes on the pair of them as they twirled across the room; visibly, word had spread that Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black were now a couple. It did not help her relax, although she admittedly felt very safe in Lucius' arms. Many young girls were peering at her haughtily or with openly speculative looks on their faces. Alcyone Nott, whom she noticed looked rather pale, stood with her arms crossed, staring at her – no, staring at the couples, and her boyfriend Cadmus, leading Diane Flint in a waltz. Interesting.

"Watching them watching you?" Lucius whispered in her ear, his warm breath causing her to shudder slightly. She could not turn her head without touching him, but she pictured his smirk as his lips moved so close to her skin. Very slightly, she nodded.

"We match," he went on. "You look striking." She smiled, held back a nervous giggle. "I expect you already knew that," he went on.

"Of course," she lied.

"Good, as long as I may be the only one to remind you." He kissed her temple, just before they parted with the end of the song. Without thinking, Cissy held on to his arm.

They danced a few more times, before Lucius led her back to the side of the room. "Should we not socialize?" he suggested. "Or I will be considered awfully selfish for keeping you all to myself."

"One could say the same of me."

"No, one might not. The lady is the treasure and the man the thief."

She laughed briefly. "You would not steal me. You are much too well-mannered."

His grin widened. "I would not assume…"

On Lucius' arm, it seemed a lot easier to smile and be charming to everyone. His light-hearted teasing had distracted her considerably. They chatted pleasantly with countless young people and bunches of ladies, elderly or in their prime. Cissy was getting used to Lucius' smooth, gallant manners, as she witnessed them constantly. She was starting to acknowledge how little they actually meant. Real, genuine interest brought a gleam to his cool eyes, made him speak less and imply more, too – and it showed most clearly when he was alone with her. The realization made it harder to breathe regularly. It was a simple, overwhelming truth.

"Good evening, Mr Black," she heard Lucius say, and gave a start, her head turning so abruptly that she felt a sharp ache in her neck. She hadn't been paying much attention to her surroundings, superficially immersed in small talk while her mind dwelled on its considerations, and thus hadn't noticed that they were coming up to her father. Cygnus turned, his gaze coolly sweeping over the young couple; he shook the hand Lucius was offering him.

"Good evening, Mr Malfoy," he replied evenly.

"I am glad we may be granted your company tonight, sir," Lucius went on. "I heard your health hasn't been at its best. I'm quite sorry of that."

For two seconds Cygnus appeared puzzled, and then his gaze briefly flickered to Narcissa. "Oh, yes," he said. "Yes, indeed. Why, thank you, young man. The concern is much appreciated."

Mercifully, they were parted by the crowd, bringing their encounter to an end. Cissy kept her eyes straight ahead, feigning oblivion as Lucius glanced at her pensively. He had caught Cygnus' look of hesitation, she was sure; he was too perceptive to let such a thing escape him.

They resumed their path through the ballroom, greeting individuals and supplying well-mannered small talk as they went. Narcissa was paying more attention now, and she caught a glimpse of her sister on the dance floor; she couldn't tell whether she was supposed to feel relieved that Bellatrix was there, healthy, well and keeping up social pretences, or whether she ought to fear an outburst of some sort. Rodolphus would make sure everything went all right, though; for all the flippancy with which he seemed to consider society, rules and common sense, she had a feeling that he was keenly aware of the need for discretion, secrecy… all notions Bella was quick to forget whenever her temper or emotions got too heated.

"Narcissa," Lucius said gently. She jumped again, realizing that he had been talking to her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" she stammered, terribly embarrassed.

"Merely that we ought to go and talk to my mother," he repeated. "Maybe you'll have some well-wishes to provide for her own health, too… and… perhaps we might step out on the balcony afterwards. Would you like that?"

"Of course," she immediately replied, with a little smile. "Let us go."

However, she felt a nagging apprehension as they neared the Malfoys. She still recalled the odd feeling she had had around Circe lately; and as imposing Abraxas Malfoy was standing right next to his spouse, the need to make a good impression would be doubled. She waited for Lucius to call, "Mother, Father," before she trilled: "Good evening, Mr and Mrs Malfoy."

They turned to face her. Abraxas bowed his head to her slightly, his expression unreadable, and Circe smiled a sharp-edged smile. "Good evening, Narcissa," she spoke. "It is delightful to see you again – in our son's company."

Cissy had the puzzling feeling that she was sincere; despite her earlier attitude, she did not appear displeased as her gaze flickered over the two of them – quite the contrary. But after all, who might have objected to their son successfully courting the last unmarried daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black? Perhaps everything had been but paranoia on Narcissa's part. Or perhaps Circe's game was complex, and she powerless to comprehend it.

They remained idly conversing with Madam Malfoy for a little while after her husband had excused himself, perfectly pleasantly; and then Lucius, as he had suggested earlier, took Cissy out on the balcony. The air out there was warm and smelled of flowers – she filled her lungs quietly, and squeezed her suitor's arm tighter.

_Suitor_, she thought dimly. That was the word she had used with her sisters, referring to the Lestrange boys. It did have too formal, too unfeeling a sound, and yet _boyfriend_ was not sufficiently… official, binding – it didn't convey this setting of ballrooms and letters and parents and being a young couple on show, almost on trial. No, she couldn't find a word that'd be exactly right. Never mind, then.

As they leaned against the balustrade, Narcissa thought she could see movement below. Intrigued, she threw a glance there, out of the corner of her eye. Someone was sitting on the grass in the shadows. Someone with light brown hair in the moonlight, and a green dress…

Just as Lucius' arm found her waist again, she recognized Alcyone, and recalled Selwyn with the Flint girl on the dance floor, his triumphant smile. She had just the time to assess the whole situation, in the blink of an eye, and feel a mix of nasty satisfaction from Alcyone's comedown, and understanding of the grief it would represent for any girl. Then she turned around, and found Lucius' face inches from her own. She scarcely had the time to wonder whether the same fate awaited her someday, when, and how broken she would feel. Next, his lips were on hers, and took away every other thought. She surrendered, clinging to his neck.

* * *

><p>The talk had been of Narcissa's OWLs ever since her parents and herself had arrived early at Grimmauld Place, in anticipation of the social gathering that was to take place there. Sirius, who had been ordered to come downstairs – although he would spend the evening with his brother in one of their rooms, under the watch of the family's old house-elf – was scowling so fiercely she thought he might give his face some long-term damage, but everybody else wore fitting smiles for the occasion – proud, polite, or patronizing, depending on the individual. After giving her their congratulations, the men had drifted away in a loose grouping to discuss some subject or other, and now the women were smothering her with questions and comments while they arranged the last details.<p>

"Nine, you said, Narcissa?" Irma drawled as she adjusted the lights for the third or fourth time. "What subject went wrong?"

"Herbology, Grandmother," she immediately replied – for the fifth or sixth time.

"A most unladylike subject, I've always thought," Druella added in a very audible whisper.

"Oh, but you did manage an E there, Druella, did you not?" Melania replied. "Or so I remembered from our previous discussions about your girls' results, but perhaps I was wrong."

"Oh, yes," Druella had to admit, turning slightly red under her blusher. "Well, I was in luck. I had to deal with very acceptable plants only – nothing that spurted unpleasant fluids or attempted to eat my hand, mainly common, useful herbs…"

"Mmm," Melania murmured. "Or perhaps you are simply more resilient than you wish us to think… I always imagined you could have been a healer, had you –" she paused delicately – "…worked. Pretty, level-headed, and not very emotional – isn't that what they require?"

Druella shuddered lightly. "Oh, I would never… even if I had ever had a job. Can you imagine… Mudbloods everyday…"

"Indeed," Melania said darkly. There was a beat of silence while the ladies all dismissed the idea.

"Regardless, I think Narcissa might have done without so many A's, although her work was satisfactory on the whole, of course," Irma went on. "What were your A's again, Narcissa?"

"Arithmancy, isn't that right?" Walburga cut in. "Quite a shame, quite a shame. I loved Arithmancy as a young girl."

"A very difficult subject. Passing it at all is quite honourable," Druella commented.

"Arithmancy, and what else?" Irma insisted.

Cissy glanced from the tablecloth she was pointlessly arranging. "Divination and Transfiguration, Grandmother."

"Divination." Walburga scoffed. "I won't blame you for this one."

"However, Transfiguration is important. This Minerva McGonagall will certainly not have you in her class with merely an A," Melania remarked.

"Quite right," Walburga agreed.

Cissy looked down. If she was being honest, abandoning Minerva McGonagall's classes was no small joy, but it would not do to display happiness at her own inadequacy.

"I would say she has been better than Bellatrix, overall," Irma concluded. "Bellatrix had more O's, and in important subjects too, but her failures were so glaring. Three A's, and two D's in Herbology and Divination! For shame!" She shuddered.

A hum of agreement was echoed, and the grouping quietly busied their minds with the worrisome subject of Bellatrix, for a little while. Narcissa briefly relished the lack of attention, before she became concerned with her sister's lateness. Of course it had only been to be expected, but that was no comfort.

Every important task had been performed and they were now idly wandering, checking details, mainly because it was only proper that the whole family should gather to prepare the event, as always. Sirius came back from his dinner in a fouler mood, if possible, than previously and was sent to his room in a commotion after one pointed remark about his grandmother's ugly dress. Narcissa, who secretly shared his fashion assessment, briefly considered fleeing as well to write Cassie – the spirits of this letter would certainly be higher than those of the previous one, which had prompted a long and rather alarmed response –, but as she was acknowledging the risk of carrying out such a daring plan, the slamming of the door effectively put her boredom to an end.

She heard voices from the hall, and the family slowly filed out of the dining room. Cissy let her grandmother and her cousin Melania go first, forcing back a hint of irritation at their majestically slow pace. She slipped out next, followed by Regulus, who had successfully escaped exile to his bedroom thus far. The ten-year-old gave a sudden cry of joy, and ran straight forwards into the arms of his uncle Alphard.

Chuckling, Alphard hugged his nephew, swiftly speaking up as Walburga opened her mouth with an outraged look: "Give him a rest, sister, the boy is happy to see me. He can afford a temporary lapse in behaviour every six months when his favourite uncle comes home, can't you lad?"

"I'm very sorry, Mother." Regulus was blushing, looking genuinely ashamed, but even then he could not keep the smile from his face. Alphard patted his head roughly.

"Good to see you too, little Regulus. All my nephews and nieces." As he made a wide circular gesture as if to embrace them all, Cissy noticed that Bella had followed him into the house, Rodolphus by her side. Despite the smile she forced when their uncle brushed her shoulder, she was looking tense, biting her lip hard.

"And Narcissa, too!" He waved her forward, and she stepped lightly in his direction. Alphard hugged her around the waist, more carefully than she would have expected; she felt his warmth, smelled the scent of his pipe. "Quite the young woman now, look at you – beautiful. How have you been, my dear?" he asked, releasing her but keeping a hold on her hand.

"Quite well, Uncle, thank you," she replied, smiling. Alphard's blatant displays of affection, though something to get used to, always felt quite pleasant. Walburga walked up to them, smiling tight, and cut in before Alphard could respond: "Don't just stand there, brother. You're coming right in time to sit down and have nothing to do!"

Alphard chuckled once and followed, releasing his nephew and niece. Narcissa briefly made eye contact with Bellatrix, who grimaced back at her. She glanced around – everybody was getting back to the dining room; paying her no mind – and reached out a hand to her elder sister. Bella looked stunned for a moment, but then she gripped Narcissa's fingers and allowed her sibling to pull her after the others into the room.

"To bed with you, Regulus," Walburga was saying as they entered.

"Walburga, it is quite early," Alphard commented, astonished, while Regulus wailed: "Oh, please, Mother!"

"Upstairs is what I meant," she amended, irritated. "The first guests will be there soon now. You may say goodnight to your uncle and relatives."

"And don't I get to see my other nephew?" Alphard asked, looking around. "Where is Sirius? I assumed he would be off doing mischief…"

"And quite a clever guess that is," Walburga muttered under her breath before adding more clearly: "Sirius has been sent to his room due to his outrageously disrespectful behaviour. I will tolerate no indulgence."

Alphard raised his eyebrows, but did not comment. Although Cissy thought Sirius' temper to be truly dreadful, she still found it quite harsh that the boy should be denied seeing the uncle he loved so, but she forgot about the subject altogether as the tension following Regulus' quiet, dismal departure reminded her that the family had more pressing concerns to worry about. She stole a glance at Bellatrix; she was glaring straight ahead, whereas Rodolphus, who had followed them wordlessly, looked quite impassive.

"All right, could someone tell me what's going on?" Alphard called loudly. Cissy jumped; on the other side of the room, she saw Druella bite her lips hard.

Everybody was looking Arcturus' way, but it was Pollux who spoke up in a clear, cold voice: "The family had a disagreement," he stated. "With Bellatrix. Her unseemly behaviour and stubborn refusal of any correction could cause a serious threat to us all."

Alphard whistled low. "Why am I not surprised… A threat, though?" From the armchair he was lounging in, he twisted his head to look at Bellatrix. "Whatever did you do this time, girl? It can't be so important…"

"Bellatrix became involved in this extremist group the Ministry has been quite concerned about," Arcturus said coldly. "Her mindless actions could heavily damage our family's standing and influence, not to mention the personal risk I am sure she is taking all too lightly."

Alphard stared. "What are you talking about? Well, I suppose I've been out of touch… Hang on, there was this one group…" He gaped. "No… Not the one leading attacks against Mudbloods? Bellatrix!" He made a move as if to stand up, looking genuinely appalled.

"At last a reasonable reaction from you," Walburga muttered. Alphard didn't respond, if he'd heard her at all.

"I didn't come to just stand there while you're accusing me," Bellatrix said loudly, her gaze defiant. "I've heard it all before, from every single one of you. I've made my choice. You can't force me away from the cause."

"But why?" Alphard insisted desperately. "Why would you do this?"

"Is it so hard to believe that it's the right thing?" she exclaimed passionately. "Our values, our purity, everything the lot of you ever taught us is being disregarded and endangered! Why can't _anyone _just do _something_?"

"Not this way, you're making it worse…" Alphard shook his head, apparently lost for words.

"You are jeopardizing our influence, Bellatrix. This has to stop," Arcturus stated, rising from his seat.

Bella faced him without backing down, though Cissy caught her small, nervous shudder – due to anger, disappointment or worry, she could not tell. "What are you going to do?" the young woman hissed. "Denounce me? Curse me into submission? Disown me for standing up for every value I was ever taught as a Black?"

There was a deadly silence. Cissy could taste helplessness in the air. She saw a muscle twitch on Arcturus' jaw, saw him breathe deeply, evenly. Alphard cut in, desperate: "You don't have to do that, Bellatrix. Listen. If this – if this is about Andromeda…"

"Don't say her name!" Bellatrix suddenly screeched, and Narcissa let a startled cry escape her. The family's attention switched to her, for a second. Cygnus crossed the room towards her as she leaned against the wall shaking, and seized her shoulders firmly to support her; Bella hovered, unsure and tense, a hand half-extended. Then she whirled towards Alphard again, her hair flying. "This has nothing to do with her!" she spat.

"You're proving my point," Alphard replied, very softly.

With a last, piercing scream of rage, Bellatrix lunged for the door. Rodolphus made to catch her wrist, but she automatically, sharply slapped him across the face, drawing outraged shouts from Irma and Walburga. Druella seemed to be beyond reacting. Narcissa leaned into her father, shaking hard, and saw Rodolphus rub his jaw and glance briefly at the lot of them before he strode out after his wife. Then she squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's over," Cygnus muttered, his voice hoarse. He was holding her awkwardly, as though he would have preferred remaining close, yet at arm's length. Walburga stormed past them, out into the hall. Cissy blocked out the low murmurs in the room until her aunt returned and stated loudly: "Rodolphus said they would be back. The guests will not be long."

There were rustles of fabric as the ladies frantically rearranged themselves, in an attempt to fully regain their previous composure. The men exchanged grave looks. Cygnus took a step back, without letting go of Narcissa. Alphard had approached the two of them soundlessly; he lightly touched his brother's shoulder, then his niece's. Cissy tried deep intakes of breath, but it seemed impossible to stop her tremors. "Father," she mumbled.

"Yes," he said tensely.

"I can't do it."

He nodded, pursing his lips. "I have to be there when the guests arrive. Alphard?" he asked.

Her uncle nodded. She felt his firm grip on her arm. "Off we go, dear girl. Upstairs should do, that's it, come with me."

"She cannot go away, too!" Walburga exclaimed, but Cygnus' response was not lost on Narcissa and Alphard before the door shut behind them.

"Keep your opinion to yourself for once, sister."

Alphard had a low, empty-sounding chuckle. She tuned out his muttered words of encouragement until they were up the stairs and there was a crash, an outraged croak, and a young boy's scream:

"_Uncle_!"

"Shut it, Sirius, there's a good lad," Alphard called in return. She was led into a study, pushed in an armchair, and the boys slipped in after them, Sirius curious and eager, Regulus flushed and shy. She could also hear a house-elf's mutterings on the other side of the door before Sirius slammed it, but the presence of an adult seemed enough for the creature and it soon shuffled away.

"What's wrong with her, Uncle?" Sirius demanded, inching closer. "She looks pretty white. Did she faint? How did you get away? When did you even _arrive_? I didn't _know_!" His voice had risen in pitch at the outrageous fact. Alphard was looking preoccupied.

"I thought I said shut it, Sirius. I'll give that to your mother, you're loud, and there's a time and a place. It's really good to see you, too, but your cousin's not at her best at the moment. Get out of her face, and keep it low."

Sirius obeyed, sullen. "She's annoying," he said. "She just wants everyone to pay attention to her. And then she gets all fussy when they do."

"Sirius, your mouth. Regulus, knock your brother out for me."

Regulus did no such thing, sitting at Cissy's feet while Sirius stomped out. "Does she need a glass of water?" he asked. "Or brandy? Mother takes brandy when she's angry."

"I don't think so, my boy. Water sounds fine, though. Where did your devil of a brother go? Stay with her, will you? I'll get water and check where that elf got to, if Sirius is going to sulk in a corner."

"I'm fine," Narcissa managed as her uncle rushed from the room. Her ten-year-old cousin was staring at her as though feeling unwell enough to escape social duties were the most fascinating thing in the whole world. "What happened to you?" he asked in hushed, conspiratorial tones. "Did you have too much to drink?"

"Oh dear, no," she answered, taken off guard.

He nodded solemnly. "When Mother gets very angry and has too much brandy, she always looks white and cranky in the morning, and we can't be loud," he confided. "Then again, we should never be loud at all. And it's not the morning right now…"

"Indeed," she muttered.

Alphard was shortly back, brandishing a glass of water like a trophy. "Sirius is with the elf and will hate me for the next half hour, until he gets bored and forgets. Mission accomplished. Drink up, Narcissa."

She obeyed. "When do we have to get back downstairs?" she inquired.

"In a while. Don't worry. The guests are arriving, the family has got everything under control. Don't they always?"

"Lucius," she said. "I should go and see Lucius."

"The Malfoy boy?" Her uncle raised his eyebrows. "Merlin, your father must like that, friendly as he is with good old Abraxas… Well, plenty of time to see him once you really feel better."

"It's not like I got sick," she reasoned, talking in a low voice. "I was just…" She struggled for the right word.

"In shock."

"Yes." She sighed. "I feel better now, honest."

"Well, I'll take you back downstairs in a moment," he replied. "Just stay put for now."

Narcissa nodded, looking past him, off into space. She still felt quite shaky, but not so out of control any longer, and she wanted to be with Lucius, forget her family for a little while. She needed him by her side, she realized. It seemed a bit less important, now, to prevent his seeing her in an overly distressed state, to keep her family's turmoils from his awareness. She didn't have to explain, to confide – but she could count on him to be there, probably.

Regulus shuffled closer. "You're not staying?"

She glanced at him. "No, I have to go downstairs."

"With the grown-ups, for the _social occasion_." He carefully articulated the words, then nodded solemnly. "I understand."

On impulse, Cissy kissed her cousin's forehead. He blinked in surprise, then smiled faintly. "One day, I'll be with the grown-ups. I'll be someone really important. Just you see," he told her.

"I'm sure you will," she replied before calling, "Uncle Alphard? I'm ready, can we go now?"

Alphard seemed to have many things to say and few words to express them as he gazed into her face, but in the end he just nodded. Together, they crept down the stairs on tiptoe, Cissy on her uncle's arm. Just as they reached the ground floor, the Malfoys entered the hall.

Narcissa slipped between guests and relatives, nobody seeming to notice that she was coming from upstairs and not from the dining room. When she reached Lucius, he grinned at her, and she felt a knot temporarily loosen at the pit of her stomach.

"How are you doing?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

She smiled back. "Perfect," she murmured.

Naturally assuming that she'd been answering his question, Lucius leaned forward to kiss her briefly. Narcissa shut her eyes tightly, leaning into his familiar touch; when they parted, she turned her head and saw Cygnus moving in their direction. Father and daughter held eye contact for a second, then she glanced away, squeezing Lucius' hand mechanically. She had been tormented by the Black family's issues quite enough for one evening; now her only concern ought to be socializing. The show must go on, no matter what.

As Lucius smoothly led her through the crowd, she suddenly felt overwhelmingly, inexpressibly thankful that at least, in this wide, relentless game she was to play, she had been granted a partner such as he.


	14. Somewhere I Belong

**And here is the new chapter, hopefully it doesn't disappoint! Title is from the song by Linkin Park.**

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><p>Narcissa's feet hit the ground hard, each of her hands clenched around a parent's arm.<p>

She caught her breath, slowly looking around as she released Druella and Cygnus. The station was, of course, vastly populated with Muggles. Squinting slightly, she spotted, through the crowd, a group of familiar faces: Orion, looking purposeful, Walburga visibly irritated, and a Sirius possibly more overexcited than she had ever seen him, which was no small achievement.

The two halves of the Black family reunited in front of Platform 9 ¾, and Orion gestured for Narcissa to go first. With only a quick glance at her restless cousin, the girl easily slipped through the barrier, and found herself amongst the crowd of her fellow students and their families. Just as she was stepping aside to regain a minimum of personal space, a familiar silhouette surged in front of her. Cissy gasped.

"Bella!"

Her sister gave her a tight smile. "Hi, Cissy. Thought I'd come and see you off, for once. You, and our lovely pest of a cousin, too."

Narcissa blinked twice, then she unthinkingly stepped forward and hugged her sister around the waist. Bellatrix stiffened in surprise, before embracing her back.

"What in Merlin's name…? Bellatrix!"

The sisters moved apart and turned upon hearing their mother's voice. Druella appeared quite stunned, as did Cygnus: he gazed fixedly at his daughters, with an intensity that felt awkward to Narcissa. The family was forgetting to keep their personal matters away from the public eye.

The moment was broken when Sirius lunged through the barrier, running straight into his uncle. Cygnus had to catch and steady him, cursing under his breath. Walburga strode after her son, narrowing her eyes at the sight of Bellatrix; Orion raised his eyebrows. Cissy bit her lips and looked away.

"Thank you," she swiftly muttered, leaning slightly towards her sister.

Bella smiled. "Quite welcome."

"Is it time?" Regulus' small voice peeped; Narcissa hadn't even noticed his presence, for he had been half-concealed behind his parents.

Walburga glanced at her watch. "Quite soon. Very well, Sirius, now you will listen to me. You are going to behave yourself at school. Do _not_ get in trouble or associate with individuals of dubious parentage, and honour the noble name of your ancestors. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mother," Sirius muttered. He was already peering at the crowd, eager to escape.

"Do not disappoint us, boy," Orion warned. "You are a Black, and even more than a Black: you are the heir. Never forget this, and act accordingly."

Sirius frowned at his shoes, but controlled his scowl and said anyway: "Yes, Father."

Walburga turned towards Cissy. "Narcissa, we shall trust you to keep an eye on Sirius if required," she stated in a tone that suffered no contradiction. "Have a good term."

"Oh… yes. And thank you," she responded automatically, taken off guard.

"Say goodbye to your brother, Regulus."

Regulus looked up at his sibling with shining eyes. "Have a good year, Sirius!"

"Yeah, goodbye," Sirius mumbled.

Walburga gave a curt nod. "Off we go, then." She laid a small peck on her eldest's forehead before striding away, her husband and Regulus in tow.

Cygnus cleared his throat. "Have a good term, Sirius. Good luck at school." He turned towards his daughters. "You, too, Narcissa."

"Goodbye, my dear," Druella said, kissing Cissy's brow before she and her husband departed as well.

Sirius was already inching away. Bellatrix seized his arm. "No goodbye for me?"

"Goodbye, Bella." He squirmed free from her grasp.

"Behave yourself," she called as he moved away.

"You, too," he shot over his shoulder.

Bellatrix blinked, then turned towards her sister. "You take care of yourself."

"You, too," Cissy replied fiercely.

Bella nodded. "I'm fine. I'm always fine. Everything's going to be all right." She suddenly raised her eyebrows. "Oh, but we have an audience."

Narcissa turned, and met Lucius' gaze unexpectedly. He was just leaving his parents, further down the platform. She blushed and turned back to Bellatrix, who was staring incredulously at her.

"You can't be serious with… oh, well, it's your tastes." She shuddered. "I have to go. Have a good term."

"You _have_ to go?" Cissy immediately picked up, alarmed.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Yes, unless you'd like to sneak me on the train and have me re-sit sixth year with you? See, I thought so."

"I'd like that," Narcissa teased.

"I'd better run, then." She kissed her forehead swiftly, and dashed through the crowd. Chewing her lip, Cissy turned away, and two seconds later Lucius Malfoy was right in front of her.

"Lucius!" she exclaimed, taken off guard by his sudden proximity. He merely smiled, and leaned in to kiss her. Cissy stood on her tiptoes, slightly arching against him as his arm slid around her waist, but they parted quite quickly, very aware that they were still in public. Narcissa smiled to herself while Lucius helped her get her truck on the train. Hogwarts with Lucius – her prospects for the year did seem rather appealing.

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><p>They were slowly making their way through the corridor when Cassandra suddenly surged from the crowd, stopping right in front of them. Her eyes swept rapidly from Lucius to Narcissa, and her lips parted in a small O. She blinked, then smiled. "Hi, Cissy."<p>

"Hello, Cassie," Narcissa replied, quite pleased to see her friend. Noticing the latter's glance, she added: "You know Lucius Malfoy, don't you? Lucius, this is Cassandra Burke, a good friend of mine."

"Pleased to meet you," he said politely.

"Likewise," Cassie retorted. She turned back to Narcissa. "I was thinking we could catch up, but I will see you later if you're busy?"

The tone was sharp, if not unkind, and Narcissa hesitated, sensing that the suggestion was less innocent than it sounded – after all of the two girls' history, Cassandra could hardly take kindly to being relegated to the background so that Cissy may spend time with her boyfriend. She automatically turned towards Lucius, who said smoothly:

"I must go and meet up with the other prefects, so I will leave you to your friend, Narcissa. I'll talk to you later."

"Later," Narcissa murmured, and he kissed her briefly before striding away. "Let us find a compartment, then!" she added, turning to Cassie.

"Let's," the latter agreed, nodding.

They were quiet as they picked a place, hoisted their trunks into the luggage rack, and took their seats. Cissy leaned against the window, facing her companion. "So, did you have a good summer?"

"Quite," Cassandra replied slowly. "I take it that it was less… eventful… than yours."

Narcissa chewed on her lip. "Yes… eventful covers it."

"I saw your sister on the platform," Cassie carried on. "How… are things with her?"

"Well… There's a bit of tension in my family, but we are handling it. It is quite all right."

Cassie raised her eyebrows. "I see. Back to control, then."

"What do you mean?"

"You probably didn't reread that letter you sent me in July, but I certainly did," Cassie retorted. "It was a mess. You were a mess." She paused. "I answered you the best I could, and your next letter was three times shorter, reassuring me that after all, you might have overreacted, that your sister wasn't in danger, your family wasn't falling apart, and you were so very sorry for having been too busy to write me back any sooner. And now, your family has had perfectly dignified goodbyes, you have Lucius, your front is flawless, and you're pretending nothing of importance happened at all."

Cassie went quiet eventually, taking a deep breath. Cissy stared at her lap, at a loss for words. "I'm sorry," she said carefully, in a low voice. "But I suppose I did overreact. It wasn't fair of me to drag you into this… when it really wasn't needed in the end…"

"You don't fool me, Narcissa," Cassie cut her off. "You never really said what your sister was up to, but I'm not stupid. You could have seen it earlier, even. And to some extent, so could I. Don't you forget that I am Cara's sister, and she was Andromeda's best friend. You've known that all too well for a long time – the implications run deeper than you think. Andromeda may have made her choices, which are irrelevant for our current subject, but _she_ suspected things long before she left."

Narcissa had a tiny gasp. Cassie squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all of that," she muttered. "But dear Merlin, stop pretending. I know it's not all right. If you think that you should be ashamed for needing a friend, you're wrong, and if you think looking the other way will get rid of a problem, you're mad. It never did you any good."

Cissy hid her face under a curtain of her hair, finding it hard to breathe, and Cassandra reached out impatiently to brush away the strands, laying her fingers against her friend's cheek. "I'm here, Cissy. I've always been here. Salazar, just let me in."

"But I can't do anything," she whispered. She paused, exhaled slowly, started again. "Or yes, actually, I can. I can carry on. Be with Lucius. Be a lady. Do well at Hogwarts. Bella promised she'd be okay. She promised – I have to trust her."

Cassandra was quiet, her fingertips still resting against Narcissa's face. Then she dropped her hand. "She has to be stopped," she said in a low voice. "They'll be stopped anyway. Better her relatives than the Aurors."

"She won't stop. She's married now, the family cannot force her into anything." Narcissa tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I would really rather not talk about this, for all the good it does me."

There was a pause. "All right," Cassie eventually sighed.

After a while, she leaned back, forcing her features into a cheerful expression. "So. Lucius Malfoy?"

Narcissa smiled back, a tiny, tentative smile. "Yes," she murmured.

"How does it feel?"

If Cissy was surprised by the question, she did not let it show. "Very… pleasant. I enjoy his company immensely."

"Mmm-mmm." Cassie appeared thoughtful. "It isn't like Travers at all."

"Oh, no," Cissy said immediately, without needing to think twice about it. Then she added, curious: "Why do you say that?"

"The way you look at him," Cassie said pensively. "I can't really define it. Like it's natural as breathing for you to have him by your side, and yet you're scared he'll fade away. You're a different girl when he's around, I think."

Narcissa laughed it off, feeling her cheeks burning. "Come on, Cassie! You've seen us together for less than two minutes."

"I've seen quite enough." Cassandra flashed another grin. "You're quite easy to read, if hard to make sense of."

Narcissa kept laughing, a tad too high. "Stop it!"

"I'll stop," Cassie murmured.

* * *

><p>Narcissa gave a small shudder as she stepped off the train. "It's so cold."<p>

"Walking will make you feel better. Hurry up!" Cassandra called, seizing her arm and pulling her along.

But Cissy stopped; she had just noticed the huge silhouette of this gamekeeper person who was to take the first-years across the lake, and in a flash, she remembered Sirius. Bella, then Lucius, then Cassie having commanded all of her attention, she had thoroughly forgotten her cousin, and guilt disturbed her as she peered at the children gathering around this Hagrid fellow, looking for a familiar silhouette among many. He might be a pest, but he was family, and she should have at least checked on him once. Eventually, she caught sight of him. Sirius was standing close to a messy-haired boy with glasses and a loud voice, and when she waved at him, he sent her a vague grimace and huddled closer to his friend.

"Your cousin?" Cassie asked from where she stood waiting, a few steps away. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to talk to him during the feast. As well as your significant other, I bet." She winked.

Cissy shook her head at her, blushing a little as they started walking towards the carriages. She had missed Lucius, the feeling small but constant at the corner of her awareness, all through the ride; oddly enough, knowing that they were on the same train, going towards the same school, that she could have spent every second with him and would probably see him every day for the next few months, made her desire for his presence all the keener. However, they would both require their personal space, and spending time with Cassie made her genuinely happy. The girls chatted on and off as they neared the castle, a few words at a time breaking comfortable silence. Narcissa's worries about leaving her family in its current state, which had plagued her this very morning, now appeared soothed. She glanced out the window at the shining stars, and found herself hopeful.

She caught sight of Lucius in the hall, and they shared a look and a smile. Then Narcissa and Cassandra took place at the Slytherin table, watching the other students file into the room. There was chatter and laughter echoing all around them, a relaxed, merry atmosphere of coming together. Cissy briefly met the eye of her ex-boyfriend, Adrian Travers, and glanced away, leaning towards Cassie to begin a discussion about their options for the year. Soon the tables were nearly filled, and a hush fell upon the Great Hall while the procession of the first-years entered under the lead of McGonagall.

Cissy paid no attention to the Sorting Hat's usual display, too busy searching the line for Sirius. She eventually spotted him near the same messy-haired boy; though they were muttering and occasionally elbowing each other, drawing McGonagall's glare, she had a feeling that her cousin was edgy. She hoped his new friend was worth associating with. He certainly had the airs of somebody quite aware of their own importance.

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat imperiously, and Narcissa straightened up slightly, her hands curled tightly around the edge of the table, her eyes trained on Sirius. Cassie smiled at her; she saw it from the corner of her eye. "Aldolly, Margaret!" they heard first, and some insignificant girl with freckles was sent off to Hufflepuff.

"Black, Sirius!"

Her cousin strode forward arrogantly, his chin high, and Narcissa felt a flutter of pride, before the Hat concealed his face. There were two beats of silence, and she crossed her fingers beneath the table. _Let it be quick_.

"_GRYFFINDOR_!"

At first, she thought she must have misheard.

There was a split second of silence before the faraway table of the Gryffindors burst into applause. Of course, only purebloods, or older students who had known the Black sisters, would realize the enormity of what had just transpired. Numbly looking around, Narcissa was met with rows of shocked faces. It simply could not be true. She turned her head again. Sirius had stood, he was walking toward the farthest table, which was calling for him, welcoming him. He looked pale, but resolute. Cissy felt the implications sink in. The house of blood traitors. It couldn't be.

The Sorting was carrying on, somewhere in the distance. Narcissa thought she felt Cassie's hand, tight around her wrist. Lucius had leaned across the table and was saying her name. She couldn't reply. By then, she wanted to rise, run to the Gryffindor table and pull Sirius back where he belonged. He was a Black – only Slytherins for generations, since Phineas Nigellus and way before. He couldn't just turn around and become a lion. Who would he associate with? Who would accept him? He would be ruined. Her little brat of a cousin.

"Narcissa, look at me." Lucius' voice was becoming urgent.

Cissy did. She stared into his earnest grey eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"I have to go get him," she said.

"You can't, Cissy," Cassie breathed.

"This can't – can't be. My family will… sort it out." They would, had to. Cissy tried to breathe evenly as she pictured Walburga's reaction. But would she know? The custom was a short word from the new student to announce his arrival into Slytherin House to the family – a mere formality, but would Sirius do it? She doubted that.

"I'll have to write my father," she murmured. She crossed her arms over her chest, to block out the cold. It hardly worked.

"Narcissa, it'll be all right," Lucius said.

"Yes, of course. I know it will," she lied to herself. Glancing up, she briefly met his gaze and had a feeling that they didn't quite mean the same thing. His eyes held pity and warmth. She remained restlessly, irrationally convinced that there had to be a way out.

Narcissa jumped when she heard Dumbledore's voice calling out to the students, and realized that the Sorting had ended. While the headmaster was speaking, she forced her eyes to the Gryffindor table again. Sirius had been joined by the messy-haired boy, who was looking quite smug. He met her gaze briefly, and held it, squaring his jaw, before he glanced away. With a sinking feeling in her chest, she wondered whether _he_ would want this whole mess sorted out. Rebellious Sirius, who always loved to stand out… But he couldn't go so far just to spite his mother, could he? He was a Black… He was a child…

Narcissa kept staring at Sirius, but he did not look her way again, gazing intently at the headmaster instead, and then turning towards his neighbour as he filled his plate and dug in ravenously. Her heart was beating almost painfully, and her stomach lurched while she watched her cousin bonding with a Gryffindor. Maybe this boy, so casual-looking, had put ideas into his head, made him yearn for even more attention? He couldn't belong with their ancestral enemies already, or indeed at all – this was simply ludicrous…

"Who the hell is this?" she hissed under her breath.

"I heard his name, that's James Potter," Cassie swiftly replied. "Cissy, you need to eat."

Narcissa didn't wonder at her friend's immediate understanding, nor did she give any sort of reaction when the latter filled her plate for her, looking determined. "A Potter," she uttered. After the first rush of relief upon learning that the boy was a pureblood, Cissy was confronted with the sickening notion that the current situation might, indeed, be nearly as bad. The Potters were well-known for their liberal ways, despite being way more respectable than, for instance, the Weasleys. A spoiled little boy who'd encourage her cousin to run with the wrong crowd… But surely Sirius would not be so stupid as to associate with Mudbloods…

"Cissy." Though Cassandra was careful to keep her voice low, she was now tugging on her friend's sleeve insistently. Narcissa turned. She suddenly realized that most of the Slytherins were stealing glimpses at her, some frowning, some smirking, some merely assessing. Lucius was also looking her way, a concerned crease between his eyebrows. She lowered her eyes to the chicken and vegetables in her plate and unwillingly picked up her fork, playing with a piece of carrot. If she attempted to force anything down her throat, she would be sick, she was sure of it.

Cissy managed a few bites, keeping her head down as she became more and more aware of the glances and whispers surrounding her. At dessert, Lucius leaned over and started a conversation, more or less managing to distract her for a little while, but she could barely register the subject, mostly focusing on the rhythm of his soft voice – and as soon as the headmaster had bid them all goodnight, she was out of her seat and halfway across the Great Hall before any of her friends had a chance to react.

Sirius saw her coming, and strode with Potter towards his new house's prefect, but Narcissa gritted her teeth and slipped between the Gryffindor students, who turned to glare at her, some uttering unpleasant comments when she passed them. She paid them no mind and went straight for her cousin, her fingers closing tightly around his arm. "We need to talk."

"What about?" he shot back insolently, pulling free. He turned to face her with a challenging stare. "I should get to my dormitory, right? And so should you."

"It's not _your dormitory_," she automatically hissed. "You are a Black. You don't belong there."

"Oh, you think?" he snapped, and James Potter materialized by his shoulder, declaring loudly: "Well, you're wrong. He belongs with us – with us Gryffindors, that's right. Now get away."

"And who do you think you are?" Cissy exclaimed, incensed. "This is none of your business!"

"This is none of yours!" Sirius shouted. "I got Sorted. I'm a Gryffindor. End of the story."

"But you can't!" She lunged forward without even realizing, grabbing his shoulders as he turned away, pulling him to face her. "Sirius, don't do this," she begged. "What are you playing at? We can fix this, I'm sure, but we need you with us, on our side…"

"_No_!" He pushed her away, while James Potter called simultaneously: "Let go of him!"

"What is going on here?" another student interjected, stepping between Sirius and Cissy. The latter recognized McKinnon, a Gryffindor prefect of her year.

"She won't let us get to our common room like everyone else," James Potter accused, pointing at Narcissa. "She went and jumped at Sirius because she doesn't like the house he was Sorted in."

McKinnon turned up her nose. "Miss Black, I'll have to ask you to leave Gryffindor students alone, and get to your own common room now."

"You can't stop me from talking to my cousin!" Narcissa retorted, furious. She was getting more and more aware of the crowd of Gryffindors that had remained behind to watch the scene, and were now muttering in anger, all around her.

"I can stop you from mistreating first-years. That's ten points from Slytherin, for shaking your beloved cousin quite hard, and openly disobeying a prefect."

"Now, now," a smooth voice cut in, and Cissy started; Lucius had pushed his way through the grouping of students, and was now standing by her side. "If you please, Miss McKinnon, I am a prefect too and I saw quite differently. I saw Miss Black disagree, not disobey, firstly; and may I also point out that she did not, and would not, hurt her cousin in any way or form – and that you are certainly in no place to judge her family relations?"

The girl pursed her lips. "Well, Malfoy," she sneered, "I hope that we may both arrive to the same conclusion as for the solution of this: everyone to bed." Swiftly turning her back on him, she pushed Sirius and Potter ahead, and the Gryffindors moved after her.

"Sirius!" Narcissa couldn't help but shout; Lucius' fingers closed tightly around her wrist.

Her cousin did not turn back. Cissy numbly leaned against Lucius' shoulder, her cheek pressed against the fabric of his robes.

"Let us get to the common room," he murmured in her ear, wrapping one arm around her. "Come on."

She allowed him to gently pull her along, and they disappeared into the dungeons, while the last of the Gryffindor first-years hurried, giggling and shoving each other, up into the tower.


	15. Who Are You Really

**First, I apologize for taking so long to post this chapter. To be honest, I had it written a while ago, but I have been doing NaNoWriMo and it took all of my focus =P eventually got around to rereading and updating this, though. I can't make promises about the next update, but I'll do my best not to take too long.**

**Dedicated to my loves: The Hapless Quill, endlessly supportive as ever, even when I'm straying into the perilous lands of original, and SKINNYxLOVE, whose enthusiasm reminded me I REALLY should wake up and post this chapter. Girls, both at feedback and friendship, you're the best anyone could wish for =)**

**Chapter is named after the brilliant song by Mikky Ekko, which I've been obsessed with lately. Enjoy!**

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><p>The next morning when she walked up the stairs into the common room, she found Lucius waiting for her.<p>

There was light from outside, reflected by the waters of the lake, glowing through the glass and over them: a flash of it gave his hair a slight shimmer. Cissy stepped towards him, and he kissed her fearlessly, not caring about the other students walking by. As their lips moved together, she felt ever so slightly lighter. By the time they broke apart, her cheeks were flushed scarlet and so, so warm.

"How did you sleep?" he inquired.

She shrugged. "All right." It was true; when she had lost consciousness eventually, her slumber had been deep and dark, unbroken by any dream.

"Good."

Looking about herself, she noticed that Cassie, who had been with her when she entered, had discreetly slipped away; and she made her way to the upper floors with Lucius, her stomach in knots as she imagined facing Sirius again, and as she wondered whether there would be a response to the letter she had sent the previous evening, no matter how late it had been then.

Too soon, it seemed, they entered the Great Hall and took their seats at the Slytherin table. She immediately had to peer across the room, looking for her cousin, and her heart leapt when she could not find him sitting with his housemates; but shortly afterwards, she saw him arrive with that same Potter boy, talking animatedly, and casually take a seat. Narcissa swallowed; Lucius brushed her hand, and she snapped her head his way, meeting his gaze before she lowered her eyes and poured herself a cup of tea. Then came a great flutter of wings overhead, and she nearly spilled hot liquid everywhere as she anxiously glanced up to stare at the plummeting owls.

Nearly right away, she saw the scarlet letter a wide-winged black bird was carrying as it plunged towards Sirius. There was no mistaking that one. The Howler fell into her cousin's hands, and he slowly pushed it away, leaning back and crossing his arms. Narcissa bit back a moan. Just for the sake of defiance, he would make this even more of a public disgrace than necessary.

Walburga Black's voice exploded across the Great Hall, making students turn and stare from every table. Cissy felt her own hands over her face without a memory of having raised them, and she was also dimly aware of Lucius quietly sitting by her, as her aunt shrieked to the skies her outrage and shame – the family's shame at its heir's disgrace. Sirius remained motionless, quite pale, from what she could see, with his jaw stubbornly set. When the letter eventually burst into flames, he said something that was lost in the distance between the two cousins, and had a short, rough-sounding laugh, a challenge under the strain. Then he tossed something else into the fire, and downed a glass of pumpkin juice.

She nearly failed to notice the missive which had been delivered for her, until the owl hooted impatiently and she was jolted back to awareness. The penmanship on the parchment she snatched was her father's, and somehow she found that a relief, despite the shaking of her hands and her short, shallow breathing. Smoothing the scroll on her lap, she leaned back in her chair and began to read.

_Narcissa,_

_As you had probably foreseen, in the absence of any news from Sirius, you were the one to inform the family about this newest turn of events. I have spread the word, and I am certain that by the time you are reading this, he is also receiving mail from Arcturus and Walburga. I can only hope that Arcturus' letter will arrive first. I fear that Walburga's choice of words won't be one likely to bring the young man to reason, but rather to drive him_ _into a corner and possibly further away from us. However, I am not one of his parents and it is not my place to suggest how he should best be treated. _

_I understand from your letter that you have been quite distressed by this unfortunate circumstance – and it obviously also places you in a difficult position, as the only representative of the Black family free to see Sirius and talk to him face to face. Walburga and Orion will be at Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon to demand that the boy be Sorted again. To be honest with you, I consider this to be an utter waste of their time, and an embarrassment for the family. It is obvious that the Sorting Hat's decision is irrevocable; it has been this way since the beginnings of the school, and I am not even sure that the verdict would change, should a second attempt take place – or, indeed, that Sirius, if it were up to him, would accept at all. And actually, even if it proved possible to go back on tonight's events, just imagine the rest of his schooling – he would always be the Gryffindor that his family's influence allowed to be relocated in Slytherin. The consequences, both on his image and his everyday life, would certainly not be pleasant. _

_Allowing him to remain in Gryffindor is a greater danger, I presume, but it is also one we are clearly aware of and prepared to face. I will not waste time and parchment to deplore the negative impact of the situation, I suspect you do not need to be reminded. However, being a Gryffindor and being a blood traitor are two distinct things, although they unfortunately go hand in hand more often than not. It only concretely means rashness and chivalry, let this be reminded. As long as Sirius goes through his education, marries correctly (some young ladies will like a rebel, and their parents will be easily convinced of the advantages of an alliance to the Black family…) and finds himself a fairly suitable activity, he should be fine. The greatest concern, truthfully, will be the influence of his housemates. Gryffindor welcomes Mudbloods with open arms, and nurtures an exceedingly liberal atmosphere. _

_I hope that the boy will be sensitive to the arguments of Arcturus' letter, and promptly forget Walburga's more aggressive reaction. Alas, he is like his mother in many ways, stubborn and possibly vindictive; and I worry that the family's efforts to set him back into line may only turn him against us and make him embrace his new house partly as a response to our perceived rejection. I shall probably write a letter to him as well, in a few days, when matters have settled down a little. But quite concretely, you are the only person who will be free to regularly interact with him, talk to him and influence his behaviour. This is no straightforward task and I would much rather spare you this responsibility. However, the importance of your role cannot be denied and I am quite sure you were aware of and concerned about it before I even mentioned anything of the sort. _

_Although I imagine that you are probably angry and worried, I would strongly advise you not to be openly confrontational with Sirius. I have been repeating this so often since last night that my throat is rather hoarse, but I will write it for your benefit: now that he is away from his parents and surrounded by housemates who neither understand nor respect our values, the family's pressure is very likely to incense rather than intimidate him. Instead of being tamed into reason, his passionate side will flare, he will view himself as a misunderstood rebel, and might turn radically against everything he has been taught. If you talk to him, you must take care to remain cool and rational, explain him that you are ready to accept his being a Gryffindor and are only concerned about the distance he might take from our family, which you meant to prevent. Make him feel important.__Stress that the family, or at least some of us, have the desire to find some balance to deal with his current situation, and respect him, as long as he respects us. I will reiterate this, Sirius should not be led to think that the Blacks are rejecting his character and wish to hinder his freedom – and if his parents' wrath, understandable as it might be, leave no room to communicate this, we must take it upon ourselves to ensure this message should be conveyed properly. He might be young, but these years at Hogwarts will mould his identity as a young man, and we simply cannot allow the influence of the Gryffindors to become appealing and influential over the authority of the Black family. Sirius is fiery and impulsive; we must deal with him accordingly. His feelings matter, for they will doubtlessly conduct his future behaviour._

_After so many recommendations, allow me to conclude by assuring you of my fondest concern. I am quite aware that you must feel, more than ever after reading this missive, a considerable responsibility weighing upon your shoulders. Protect your heart, by remembering, first, that you have lost no one today, and second, that all you can do is to be the stable presence, the support that may sway your cousin in favour of the family. I very much hope that my future letter to him will be received well enough to take up a meaningful part of this great task. As for the rest, the whole of your efforts will not make his choices, merely, perhaps, influence them. Do not believe Sirius' destiny to be something you ought to answer for. Mind your own life and successes. They will, also, bring light and pride to the House of Black. _

_With all my love, _

_Your father, _

_Cygnus Black. _

Narcissa leaned back in her chair, breathing deeply. Though she was dimly aware that she probably should not have read such a long letter in public, thus drawing even more attention to herself and to her family's state of urgency, her head was buzzing with her father's many points of advice, which she tried to comprehend one by one, and she frankly cared little who might have been looking at her at the moment. She sneaked a glance towards Sirius' table: her cousin was not reading anything, but chattering animatedly. With a sinking feeling in her chest, she recalled having seen him toss something white on top of Walburga's burning missive, so it would catch fire too. If her fears turned out to be true, it was certain already that Arcturus' letter, in its current state, could no longer influence his grandson in any way.

"Narcissa," Lucius said quietly. She jumped a little as he gestured towards Slughorn, who was slowly handing out timetables, farther down the table; she had just enough time to compose a pleasant smile.

"Miss Black, how are you?" the plump little man exclaimed while checking her options and OWL results.

"Very well, sir, and yourself?"

"Quite good, quite good. Ah… your cousin avoided joining my personal students last night, didn't he? What a pity! He must have heard about me and been quite scared, without a doubt!" He winked as if to emphasize an excellent joke, and Narcissa refrained from telling him that although the whole world didn't revolve around his person, as soon as Sirius got to know the likes of their Potions master, he would be all the happier for his Sorting indeed. She had turned a little white at the unexpected mention of her cousin's name, but was otherwise satisfied with her self-control.

Clutching her timetable in her hand, Cissy met Cassie's gaze, halfway across the table, and hastily rose, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Lucius' startled lips. "Thanks for everything," she murmured before hurrying off.

The corridors were still mostly free of students that might have glanced at her or whispered behind her back, and as Cassandra rapidly caught up with her, she had all the advantages of getting to class early, without the inconvenient of loneliness. The girls never strayed from school-related subjects in their conversation, although Narcissa was, admittedly, slightly distracted. Her hand regularly slipped into her bag to clutch at her father's missive. Valiantly, she held a small smile in place without letting it so much as waver.

Narcissa did not run into Orion and Walburga when they visited the school, as Cygnus had told her they would, and at dinner that evening, she could see Sirius at the Gryffindor table once more – like she did, over and over again, in the following days, until she eventually stopped looking for him at all. As time drifted by, she was more and more aware that she ought to try and talk to him, at least resume some kind of communication, if swaying him was quite beyond her. She feared rejection, making things even worse – but she knew that she couldn't just abandon Sirius.

She also knew that she would have to catch him alone, which might prove quite difficult, since he and Potter hardly ever seemed to part, and they had gotten themselves, on top of that, a pair of cronies that she couldn't quite place. They came down to the Great Hall together, navigated the castle between classes together, and then retreated to their common room together – it was honestly infuriating. Even detentions Sirius and Potter seemed to earn themselves as a collective: Cissy had occasion to notice that twice in the first month, which only appalled her further. James Potter was certainly no good influence for the likes of her cousin: she suspected they took a kick out of pushing one another into extremities, and that intuition was profoundly distressing to her.

Eventually, one Sunday morning, Narcissa could not believe her eyes as she spotted Sirius entering the Great Hall alone, scowling and tired-looking. It was too early for the majority of the late risers in the castle, which meant that there was nobody around that might interfere or be a bother. Her heart in her throat, Cissy left the room, but waited in the Entrance Hall, praying that no obnoxious Gryffindor would barge in at the worst moment. After quite a bit of waiting, her cousin walked out, on his own again; she called his name softly.

Sirius whirled around; his eyes widened when he saw her. "What?" he asked, rather sharply. "What do you want?"

"Hi." She took a small step forward. "We haven't talked in a while."

He frowned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. Cissy repressed the urge to suggest he stand straighter. "Well, that's kind of normal," he said. "Gryffindors and Slytherins aren't supposed to _talk_, are they?" He sniffed haughtily, and Narcissa was randomly struck by his resemblance with Walburga.

"You're my cousin," she replied. "A house isn't going to stop me from talking to you."

"The _public eye_ might," he shot back dryly, emphasizing the words with obvious disdain.

She pursed her lips. "I'm sure you've noticed that it hasn't stopped me before."

"To try and reason with me, sure. But now that things are settled and everybody knows they're not going to change, sticking up for the family rebel wouldn't look too good, would it?"

She sighed. "We don't think of you like that."

"Oh, really?" He was talking a lot louder now. "I think you do, Cissy. You all do. There's you all on one side, and me on the other, isn't that right? All those ecstatic letters I've received…"

"Of course they were angry, but getting so stubborn is hardly helpful!" she retorted. "And that's utter nonsense. We still think of you as part of the family. All of us."

"Yeah, as the heir."

"As Sirius!"

"Who does?"

"My father and I. Uncle Alphard. Regulus."

There she saw him hesitate. "Oh please," he said. "Don't play loving cousin with me. You've never liked me much."

"Of course. You're a brat. But you're my brat."

And for a second, he was smiling. He shook himself, stared straight into her eyes. "So what? Where is this lovely little chat leading us?"

She shrugged. "Wherever you want it to. Would you cut the paranoia, really? It's getting tedious. I'm not trying to manipulate you."

"You're trying to get me to like you all again. Mighty task, that." Once more, he smiled a sharp-edged smile. "Now I see what they were going on about. Narcissa Black, oh so pleasant. You can be pretty nice when you want to."

"I'm always nice."

"Well, I hadn't noticed before. Guess you weren't trying so hard around me."

She rolled her eyes. "Sirius Black, you're a pain."

"Sounds like me."

For an awkward second, they both hovered. "I'm going back to my dormitory," he added defiantly. "My friends will be awake by now… I _hope_."

"Short night?"

"Detention."

She tutted and sighed. "Oh, Sirius. I suppose it'd be useless to tell you to keep out of trouble?"

"And here comes the lecture. You'd been doing too well so far," he half-teased.

She glared at him. "Because _you_ have been good, perhaps?"

"Let's not go there."

"It was hell to get you alone, you know. Are you and your new friends joined at the hip?"

"Would feel that way to you. You hate them, don't you?"

"I don't make a habit of carrying out family discussions in a crowd, and especially not around people who seem prone to sticking their noses in others' personal business. No offense."

He grimaced. "Fair enough. Well, I won't keep you – heading back to my nosy friends."

"Take care of yourself."

"Oh, you're too sweet."

"And _behave._"

He laughed over his shoulder, and she stared at his retreating back.

After he'd disappeared, Cissy slowly made her way to the dungeons, not feeling like going back to finish her breakfast. It was still early, but the castle was beginning to stir; upon entering the common room, she found several of her housemates, reclining in armchairs or heading up to the Great Hall. Lucius was there, discussing with a group of younger students – performing his prefect duties, Narcissa supposed. She drifted to the windows that faced the lake while he finished; a boy that seemed to be a first-year lingered after the others to speak to him. Lucius listened with apparent interest, and she idly tried to place his interlocutor. She didn't believe he was a pureblood, but there were very seldom any Mudbloods in Slytherin; she thought she vaguely remembered him from their first evening, and the line of students waiting to be Sorted.

Eventually, the boy departed and Cissy came to take over the seat he had left vacant. Lucius smiled at her, and leaned forward for a brief kiss. "Have you been up for long?" he asked. "I saw Cassandra, she told me you were already gone."

"Yes, I came down for breakfast a while ago," she replied. "Helping out first-years?" She nodded towards the door the younger students had exited through.

His smile widened. "Only those of potential. This Snape, for instance… The one you saw last… I heard from the teachers – especially Slughorn – that he was quite talented, and I have a good feeling about him. He does seem to have some aptitudes." He shrugged. "Cannot hurt to mentor individuals that may very well turn out to be important."

"Indeed." Cissy nodded seriously, though she was slightly distracted. "We have both been dealing with first-years today, then," she commented lightly.

Lucius raised an eyebrow as he met her gaze. "And did it also go well for you?"

She considered. "As well as could be expected."

His smile made her feel warmer. "You, Narcissa Black, could handle anything," he said steadily. Then he added, "It will be all right."

She nodded, and squeezed his hand.


	16. Try

**Here is the newest chapter! Sorry again for the delay - I've been a bit hectic, editing the novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo and proofreading for work. I'll do my best to get the next chapter wrapped up in a decent time, though. **

**This chapter is named after the song by Pink, and it is dedicated to my darling Lauren, for her birthday! Love you, dear. -squishes-**

* * *

><p>The <em>Daily Prophet <em>shook a little between Narcissa's hands. She put the paper down, smoothed it over with a fingertip, took a sip of tea.

Some of her housemates were also reading the news, or their mail; most were not. Cissy had only recently acquired the habit, and though she would never have confessed that, of course, it had been for the likes of today's headline. _Three Muggle-borns tortured in Manchester – culprits actively sought. _In the picture beneath, a mark stared at her for the first time: a skull painted across the sky, a snake stretching from its mouth. She flipped the paper over. She'd have plenty of time to read that article – later.

Narcissa glanced up, features carefully composed, and looked slowly across the table, focusing briefly on each face to help empty her mind. On one side of her, Cassie was leaning over to chat animatedly with Virgil Greengrass, who listened with his face tilted downwards; a bit further, Lucius discussed with some classmates of his, sipping a cup of tea. She turned her head and met Alcyone Nott's eyes next; the girl was watching her steadily, her lips pursed and her gaze thoughtful. She didn't like that, and stared back until Alcyone glanced away. Then she caught a glimpse of Travers, just two seats down. The two hadn't interacted much since their return to the school, a fact which Cissy was quite thankful for, as she wished to avoid any unnecessary awkwardness. A couple of times, she had caught him watching her and Lucius, his lips set in a tight line. Today, however, he didn't once glance up from the heavy volume he was consulting. All the better.

Narcissa's attention switched back to her plate, but she was distracted again as Cassie burst into laughter beside her. She turned her head; her friend was still talking to Greengrass. Her cheeks were slightly flushed by now, and she wore a small, taunting smile that seemed to make Virgil quite clumsy – she thought his spoonful of porridge might start dribbling into his lap any second, as he kept glancing at his neighbour's face and then away. Narcissa raised an eyebrow, with a mix of amusement and concern at the sight. Pretending she hadn't noticed the slightest thing, she turned back and caught Lucius' eye this time. It was her turn to flush merrily, although there was little rational cause to her having such a reaction every single time.

With a small smile, Narcissa simultaneously pushed the _Prophet _into her bag and from her mind. She stood, knowing she still had a little while left of freedom before classes began. It only took two minutes before Lucius excused himself as well, and followed her out of the Great Hall and into the quiet corridors. A very nice little while, indeed.

* * *

><p>Narcissa shook her head and dramatically buried her face into her hands, resting her elbows on two of the countless manuals that lay open before her, and took all the room on the table. Cassie swatted her shoulder. "Your arm is all over my paragraph."<p>

"We're not going to make it," she replied.

There was a chuckle in response. "With that state of mind, certainly not."

Cassandra leaned back in her armchair, shaking her head. "Who would have thought Slughorn would be so cruel?"

"Sixth year," Cissy replied matter-of-factly, taking a purposefully sinister tone.

"Sixth year," Cassie hummed, glancing aimlessly about. Narcissa decidedly pushed the nearest book away from her and looked up at her friend.

"You're getting along pretty well with Virgil Greengrass," she pointed out.

Cassie blinked, seemingly startled. "What? Oh, yes. He's… nice. I'd never noticed."

"That's lovely," Cissy murmured. "He's a little shy, of course, but very pleasant. His mother is an old friend of mine's."

Cassie had a dry laugh. "Of course. Good families are ever so tightly bound, are they not?"

Narcissa shrugged, reaching for another piece of parchment. Unconspicuously, she watched her friend's face from the corner of her eye. Cassandra's expression had darkened, and she was chewing her lip slightly.

"He seems fond of you," Cissy said airily, after two minutes of silence.

Cassie jumped a little. "What? Oh. Yes, he is very… polite, I suppose."

"I've seen him be polite," Narcissa disagreed. "That's the way he always acts with me. But here there's a difference."

Cassie squirmed a little. "Maybe. Well, it doesn't matter much."

"Doesn't it?"

There was a pause. Then Cassandra looked up. Her gaze was blazing this time, and Narcissa noticed that she had quite nice green eyes. She had never paid much attention to that before.

"I'm not sure," she said in a low voice. "He is nice, indeed. But… it isn't like he seemed willing to take things any further. He probably fears that his family wouldn't approve. A shopkeeper's granddaughter, after all…"

Narcissa hesitated. "Well, it all depends, but I hardly see the problem," she said slowly. "You are pure, and that is what matters most. Of course his mother will be thinking about his prospects already, I suppose. However, we are only sixth-years, and he's a boy. He still has quite some time… He may very well develop more… intimate… acquaintances at the moment, without his family having to get involved right away."

Cassie stared down at her lap. "I wouldn't know," she replied with a hint of bitterness. "You are the one who is familiar with society's politics, after all."

Narcissa shrugged, a bit embarrassed. She wished she could have been more helpful to her friend; but she had already stated her opinion, and the rest was up to Virgil Greengrass and no other. She felt slightly awkward as she watched Cassie grab one of her books, with more energy than was strictly necessary, and pointedly immerse herself in study. She, after all, had Lucius. She had never seen Cassie display extensive interest towards the other sex before, nor had the girl actually expressed vulnerability or want of any kind. There had certainly never been any question of their belonging to different social circles. It suddenly seemed very selfish that she had never imagined Cassie might be anything less than content with her life.

"Perhaps the two of you should talk," she suggested. "Merely to make sure you both see things the same way."

"Perhaps, indeed," Cassie murmured.

She did not add any further comment, and Cissy respected her reserve, going back to her homework with a sigh. She gave up after a short while, though, and decided to go to bed early. Quietly wishing her friend goodnight, she retreated to the dormitory, which seemed to be empty at this hour. Climbing into her canopy, she opened a book. Neatly, discreetly tucked inside were several notes of Lucius', her father's letter, and a quick, flippant one from Bellatrix. She unfolded one of the parchments, smoothing it over carefully.

"Hey, Narcissa."

Cissy gave a startled cry, dropping the book, which clattered to the floor. Apparently, she had been wrong to assume she was alone. Alcyone Nott had just leaned out of her bed to talk to her. The girl had a letter on her lap as well, and she was clutching it tightly, while peering at her.

"Hello, Alcyone," Narcissa said stiffly. "What do you want?"

"Well, we are quite alone in here, I just thought I'd say hi." She shrugged.

"All right. Hi." Cissy pursed her lips and bent down to retrieve her book. When she straightened up, Alcyone was looking away, but she had a feeling she was still being watched.

"Tired as well, weren't you?" her housemate inquired.

"Most of us are. This is a very demanding year," Cissy pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Quite right."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the dormitory. Narcissa could not relax with the other girl there, and yet she was fiercely determined not to let it show. She also was quite surprised that Alcyone had made no venomous allusion to her cousin as of late: she suspected it was because she feared the comeback would be about her ex-boyfriend's new fiancée. Indeed, Cissy did not consider herself above making such a comment, should the situation call for it. The year would not be easy on her, but she was pushing her way forward, knowing that she had Lucius and Cassie, and she would be all right; those were the only things that mattered. She would not allow the likes of Alcyone Nott to get to her.

The door burst open, and the latter's sidekicks, Stevens and Smith, barged in, talking loudly. Narcissa sighed and pulled the curtains of her canopy tightly shut; however, she could still hear them. Alcyone's voice did not join in, thankfully.

Cissy curled up under the sheets, the book containing the letters close to her side, and squeezed her eyes shut. It took her a while to succeed in stopping to think, as always, but eventually she managed.

"Not another prank!" Narcissa exclaimed, aggravated, stepping out of the way of a balloon aiming for the group of Slytherins.

The ball exploded, drenching a bunch of fourth-year girls with a thick, translucent and sour-smelling liquid, causing them to screech in chorus. Muttering a profanity under his breath, Lucius drew his wand, and let go of her arm.

"I've got to sort this out," he told her, "you should get somewhere less… _messy_."

She nodded her agreement, quickening her pace in the hope that she would avoid falling prey to a stupid practical joke as well. She dashed through the corridors and only paused once she had reached a staircase, peering back towards the little group of Slytherins. Knowing the dangers of a false impression of safety, she did not take much time even then, but rushed as far away as she could. She thought she heard a muffled giggle on her way, yet there was no one there: the culprit had remained unseen. Sodden Gryffindors. She shuddered at the main idea of that stinking substance touching her clothes, her hair.

"I swear to you, I will have them expelled or skinned alive if I can get my hands on them," Lucius ranted a bit later, having caught up to her on his way to class. "I am used to dealing with pranks from this kind of brainless baboons, but this is over the top – there have never been so many that early in the year before. All aiming for our house. And I won't be able to keep under control the imbeciles who crave retaliation for much longer, either. Really, I am all for healthy inter-house competition and getting those Gryffindors as nasty as we can, but there is Quidditch for that very purpose. If I see any more stinking glue today, I might stick it down some innocent bystander's throat."

"I agree with you," Narcissa murmured, shuddering. "Come any closer to identificating them?"

"I suspect the culprits are rather young. Well, immature, of course, but even seventh-year Gryffindors are about as mature as the next Crup, so that hardly helps. Their magic is creative, but still very basic – simple spells, with a twist. Just _Wingardium Leviosa_, for instance – this filthy stuff in the balloons had certainly been bought, not brewed. Some new students… It's all way too cocky for first-years, though…"

A sinking suspicion seeped into Narcissa, but she kept it to herself. "That's all rather surprising," she said neutrally.

"Isn't it?" Lucius retorted. "I'll find out who is behind this, though, believe me. I am really sick and tired of that childish mayhem."

Cissy nodded along to his words absent-mindedly.

In the following weeks, the Slytherin prefects declared open war on the prankers. There was no proof that Gryffindor was indeed the house to be held responsible, but nobody really had a doubt, and the lions' mocking smirks did nothing to ease the suspicions. Lucius and the others often roamed the corridors, keeping watch and clearing the dungeons of Dungbombs, their jaws tightly set. It was clear that if anyone was caught, depending on who got their hands on them first, they might land in the hospital wing sooner than in a teacher's office. That was partly the reason why Narcissa eventually gathered her resolve and grabbed a hold of Sirius between classes, demanding to know whether he was informed of anything about what was going on.

"Hey, leave me alone! I have no idea," he protested, trying to flee.

"You don't fool me. I'm sure you know." She took a deep breath. "In fact, I really hope you are not involved, Sirius."

He grinned wickedly. "Wow, that's some credit you give me. I'm flattered, Cissy."

"This isn't _funny!_" She wanted to shake him. "You spend more than enough time in detention already, and you are really starting off the wrong way. If some of my classmates get their hands on the people who have been making our life hell for the past few weeks, it won't be pretty and I don't want to think you're part of this!"

"Aw, she's concerned. Isn't that sweet?"

"Sirius," she growled. "I'm giving you a warning. If you've got any brains, you will pay attention to it. I am not trying to make you tell on others, but please, please, stay away from that kind of nasty business."

He had a little laugh that sounded maddeningly patronizing to her. "Warning heard and heeded, cousin dear," he replied, pulling his best innocent face. "Can I go to class now?"

She scowled at him. "Yes. Get out of my sight."

As Sirius scurried away, it suddenly dawned on her that she had managed to catch him without James Potter this time. That mere fact was unusual enough to make her pause and ponder the implications – then she rushed through the corridors, wanting to catch Lucius before the bell rang.

"Did anything specific happen during the break?" she asked right away as she ran into him in the staircase.

He frowned at her. "Dungbombs. Quite minor, but still – it hardly ever stops." His face darkened.

Narcissa nodded, thinking hard and fast. She couldn't tell whether this was good or bad – Potter, who had become as good as Sirius' shadow, wouldn't have left him for no reason. There might have been another perfectly reasonable explanation, and yet she was sure her conclusions were correct. Potter was definitely implicated. But if he was, was it possible that Sirius would get left behind? Hardly likely – they probably merely took turns, watched out for one another. She wanted to groan at the notion. Such ill news. Well, at least they were only involved in the smaller tasks.

Lucius waved a hand in front of her face. "Narcissa?"

"Sorry, what did you say?" she replied automatically, blinking.

"I was asking whether you'd seen anything suspicious." He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh no. Nothing," she responded a bit too hastily. She could tell he wasn't quite convinced.

"All right then," he said slowly. "I'll see you tonight in the common room?"

She nodded happily, both relieved to be getting away and pleased by the idea of spending time with him later. He leaned in to kiss her, and dashed off; she nearly had to run as well, so that she might make it to class on schedule.

When she arrived in the dungeons that evening, Cissy rushed through her homework, willing to be able to relax and make the best out of her time with Lucius. Her head was too full, and the necessity of always being on her guard so that she would not fall prey to a nasty prank was putting her on edge. However, she might have spared the effort, for Lucius returned rather late from his rounds with the other prefects, only to get to some homework of his own. She sat next to him by the fireplace, watching him from the corner of her eye. His hair was falling over his face, and she could see the curve of his wrist as his hand glided across the parchment, scrawling essay after essay. She blushed a little at her own silliness, glancing away. She should have been doing something useful, instead of peeking at her boyfriend like a common girl.

"All done," he declared a little while afterwards, startling her out of her reverie.

He pushed his books away and stretched wearily, glancing around at the scarcely populated common room. He gave her a crooked little grin. "Come here, will you?"

Although she was certainly eager to comply, Narcissa made a point of raising an eyebrow at him before rising slowly and gracefully, her head held high. She moved to the armrest of his seat, and he smiled up at her, snatching her hand to drop a kiss on its back. He kept their fingers laced, resting on his lap, slightly stroking her wrist with his other hand. Cissy hummed under her breath. She rather liked the way he managed to always strike the balance between respect and slight possessiveness.

"Productive evening, then?" she inquired lightly.

He shrugged. "Essays, rounds. Same old."

"Nothing new?"

"Nothing." He snorted, needing no further prompting to broach the subject. "I cannot quite figure out how they're managing this. Those tricks are not that clever, really – quite plain, even. It is only surprising that they aren't getting caught. It is as though they were invisible – but _Homenum Revelio _would work in that case. We have been thinking of leaving actual traps, but then it is us the teachers would turn against."

Narcissa scoffed. "The irony. And I suppose they still aren't doing anything?"

"Haven't moved a finger since McGonagall gave that ludicrous little warning talk in the Great Hall. And making _ever so clear _that she was speaking as Deputy Headmistress, not particularly thinking of her house, too."

"Oh, of course not."

He sighed, reclining in his seat. "They only say that they are watching out, but cannot do anything until someone gets caught. And of course we are supposed to be satisfied with that. The whole thing really is getting on my nerves, believe me."

Cissy nodded, adjusting her posture so that she might lean a bit closer to him. He eyed her thoughtfully. "You know," he said in a pensive tone, "Snape has hardly been leaving me alone lately. He is convinced that your cousin and that Potter boy have something to do with this mess."

Her stomach dropped. Narcissa straightened up, and fought to compose her features into a suitable expression of surprise. "You are not serious."

"Indeed, I am," he replied. "Those boys simply loathe one another. I believe Snape would say or do anything to get Potter and young Sirius in trouble. However, he is also very clever, and he knows better than to lie to me about such a subject – or to any of the older Slytherin students, for that matter. He is genuinely convinced of their involvement."

"And what is his evidence?" Narcissa asked sceptically.

"He has been listening carefully to everything that was said around him – do you remember when I was wondering if some fairly new students weren't behind this, too? Well, it seems to fit. The level of skill required to perform the curses… the immaturity – though we both know that mature behaviour is hardly a Gryffindor trait, so that one argument can be considered as questionable… and the fact that nothing had ever happened on this scale before. I remain convinced that a first-year would have been scared off by the fierce reactions and the obvious danger in continuing their activities by now, but perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps the younger they are, the less likely to stop and think about what they are doing, realize the consequences of getting caught. Pure rashness and arrogance, with little experience of the school's rules and everyday life…"

He trailed off, looking troubled. He gazed silently into Narcissa's face for a moment; she had honestly no idea what he might see there. She felt frozen. Eventually, an unhappy frown creased his brow.

"You think I might be right, don't you?" he asked.

"I have honestly no idea," she murmured. "This is unsettling, indeed."

"It certainly is. I know you talked to your cousin today… Did you happen to sense anything off in his behaviour?"

She flinched. "Have you been spying on me?" she said automatically.

Lucius' eyes widened in shock, and he sat up. "Don't be absurd," he replied rather sharply, "I do hope you know I would never do such a thing. Catulla, another prefect, merely mentioned in conversation that she'd seen you with him, and that you should attempt to get information for us. I told her I would talk to you about it, but I know better than to use you as a means to find out something about Sirius. Hopefully you realize that."

She flushed. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I probably overreacted."

"It's all right." He squeezed her hand lightly. "You do think it is him, don't you? I can see you are getting more and more anxious."

Silence answered him. He sighed.

"Narcissa, you matter more to me than catching a silly prankster does. I won't throw your cousin to the wolves, I know it would hurt you, and be quite unpleasant for your family as well. You don't need that. But if I have all the information, we could try to stop him before someone else does."

She took a deep breath. "He denied everything," she said faintly. "But I didn't buy it."

"Did you see Potter as well?"

"No, they weren't together… for once."

"When was that?" he asked suddenly.

"During the morning break."

"The Dungbomb break."

She nodded and sighed. He pursed his lips in thought.

"Do you think anybody else might suspect him?" she suddenly asked. She threw a nervous glance around the common room. It was now empty but for the two of them, and they had been talking in low voices anyway. However, she still felt slightly paranoid.

"No, certainly not seriously. They are all like me, speculating, but reluctant to admit first-years could have such nerve – too reluctant to look too closely at this set of options. I only thought of Sirius because you've told me about him before. It was easy then to realize that his personality might fit."

"No immediate danger, then," she breathed.

"Not until they get caught."

Narcissa nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. "I do trust you – more than you probably think. I just got so edgy. I am sick of always having some nagging worry at the back of my mind, to be honest."

"I understand," he replied softly. "Just remember that I'm on your side."

She smiled a little. "I know that."

"Good. Then let us forget about it all for a moment, shall we?" His hand tightened around hers. "Just you and me."

She leaned closer against Lucius' shoulder, her balance precarious. He pulled slightly on her wrist, an invitation rather than an actual tug. They were alone, and Cissy decided that she had deserved a moment's rest from propriety. She let herself slide onto his lap.

His arm slipped around her waist, and she snuggled against him. Her hair was falling into his face; he brushed it back and caressed the nape of her neck. Narcissa pressed her mouth to his. One of his hands slid across her back, making her arch a bit closer. Eyes tightly shut, she took him in fully: his warmth, the solidity of his chest against her, the taste of his lips, his scent – a subtle mix of sandalwood and cedar. Everything fell away but Lucius and herself; the outside world was reduced to an abstract idea. She was losing breath, and they broke the kiss for a moment, their foreheads brushing.

"Narcissa," he whispered. She opened her eyes and gave him a questioning look, but he only stared at her, before leaning in for another kiss. She curled closer to him again, her pulse racing. One of her hands was now pressed against his chest; she could feel his heartbeat echoing her own. The frantic rhythms matched in staccato harmony.


	17. Plans

**Hello! So, um, I'm alive. And I'm sorry. This fic isn't dead, and I never meant to drop it for so very long. Four months… Yeah. To be fair, I've been busy editing the novel I wrote for NaNo, working as a translator and finishing another huge fic I was struggling with—but it's still not really an excuse. On a more positive note, now that I've gotten back to Hearts, I'm making a lot more progress and I've already been working on the chapter following this one, which means the update delay should be something fairly decent again. Hopefully you'll enjoy this! **

**Reminder: in ch. 16, we've seen Slytherin House fall prey to regular pranks, which Lucius and Narcissa strongly suspect Sirius and his friends to be responsible for. We've also learnt of the beginnings of a love interest between Cassie and Virgil Greengrass. **

**Chapter title comes from the song by Bloc Party. **

* * *

><p>"Narcissa."<p>

Lucius' voice came unexpected as Cissy was hurrying through corridors, on her way to class. The urgency of it made her heart leap in alarm, and she whirled around to face him.

"Your cousin is in the hospital wing," he simply said. "Come with me."

Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth. For a minute she couldn't speak for shock, and Lucius reached out for her wrist impatiently.

"Please, he will be all right, but we might want to hurry," he urged. "Would you mind excusing Narcissa to her next teacher if she turns out to be late?" he added, turning to Cassie.

"Of course not. I will notify them."

"Very well. Thank you." He pulled her after him, and Cissy followed, limp from shock.

"Have no fear," Lucius stated as soon as they were alone in a deserted corridor. "Your cousin and his group of friends had a run-in with young Severus Snape. The latter was trying to catch them in the act of one of their pranks. The little fools had a fight, but all they managed was to topple down the stairs. Madam Pomfrey must have fixed them by now. Still, they are all stuck there together. If we must find a moment to reason with them, this is as good a chance as we might ever get."

Narcissa nodded, fingers curling around his. They were quick to reach the hospital wing, and Lucius led her directly to the corner where five sullen-looking boys were sitting each on a bed. Madam Pomfrey was fussing over one of them, a Gryffindor from the pair that was always following Potter and Sirius around. She straightened up as the Slytherins neared them.

"Quite unnecessary, Mr Malfoy," she stated. "Those careless little ones are fine."

"I understand that, but Miss Black here was very worried," Lucius said smoothly. "I have permission from Professor Slughorn to bring her to see for herself that her cousin is all right, as I was coming back to escort Mr Snape to class anyway."

"Mmm," the nurse said curtly. "Very well. I shall only be keeping Mr Black, Mr Pettigrew and Mr Snape here to rest for ten more minutes. You can stay with them during that time. Then it'll be back to class for everyone, and no more funny business. Mr Potter, Mr Lupin, you may go already."

Pomfrey walked briskly away. Under Narcissa's glare, Potter and Lupin slid off their beds, but Lucius raised an authoritative hand. "Not so fast, gentlemen. We all have matters to discuss here."

They glanced at each other, with looks of shocked innocence. "McGonagall has already been here for our punishments," Potter said. "You only just missed her."

"Oh, I know."

"So there is no more reason to keep us," Lupin intervened. "You don't have that power."

"I think you will find I have more power at the moment than you think, Mr Lupin," Lucius drawled. "Please sit down."

Raising an eyebrow, Lupin obliged. Potter did likewise with a scowl.

"Are we reaching the point of this visit, then?" Sirius jeered from his bed. He looked just fine, bruises slowly receding on one side of his head. "That's funny, Narcissa doesn't look that sick with worry to me."

"Oh, but she is, Mr Black," said Lucius. "And you know why. Because her cousin is walking a dangerous path."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah? Well, not that it isn't sweet of her to be concerned, but besides falling down a flight of stairs, nothing much happened to me lately."

"Yet," Lucius replied. "Let us be honest with each other. Everyone in this room knows that the lot of you is behind the pranks that have been targeting Slytherin House since September."

Potter roared with laughter. "Are you honestly thick enough to buy this fellow's tales?" he asked, pointing to Snape, who sat quietly on his bed, eyes focused on Lucius. "Wow. I didn't know that greasy, jealous first-year gits had that much influence in Slytherin. That's pretty interesting."

"Do be quiet, Mr Potter," Lucius said pleasantly. "Madam Pomfrey left us ten minutes and I have no intention of wasting more of my time on you. Now, I can assure you I took things rather seriously and I do not throw accusations at random. As we are all well aware, there is no tangible evidence and therefore no teacher can step in. However, my housemates can, and are frankly dying to. They haven't caught anybody thus far—it is Mr Snape's theory, I believe, that some kind of undetectable invisibility device is coming into use—but I am certain that having specific individuals to watch out for will help them quite a lot." He paused. "This is where we stand right now and I could very well have left it to that. I am here today as a favour to Miss Black. Narcissa would be very distressed, should anything bad happen to her cousin, and I believe that it might not be necessary to come to such extremities. Therefore, I am here to warn you. Very shortly, a select few of my housemates will be made aware of my conviction about this whole business. Without evidence, we shall certainly not undertake any rash actions against first years. However, we will know who to look out for. It would surely be most convenient for every last one of us if the pranks were to cease before any further developments. But should they carry on, there will be consequences. You were wondering earlier about influence in Slytherin House. I can assure you that the word of Lucius Malfoy is one always carefully listened to, even while presenting a theory that might sound… dubious… to the outsider. However, I have no delusion over the limits of my power. Should my classmates finally catch in the act the culprits of the pranks we have had to endure all year, even I won't be able to keep things from turning… passably messy."

Lucius made a small bow. "That is all, I believe. Have a good day, gentlemen. Mr. Snape, with me. Narcissa, do you want a word with your cousin in private?"

"She's just fine," Sirius intervened before Narcissa had the time to open her mouth. "Nothing much to say."

Cissy hesitated, then nodded. "Please, be reasonable," she told Sirius, who pointedly looked away. She turned back to Lucius. "We can go."

Flanked by Severus Snape, they walked away and left the hospital wing. "Off you run, Severus," Lucius said as soon as they were out. "I assume you know the way. As for that little group, like I said, I'll take it from here. No use getting in situations where you'll be one against four. I thought you had more sense than that."

"It isn't as though anyone had believed me before," Snape pointed out. "I had little choice. Thankfully you found better testimonies, though, as it seems." He eyed Narcissa.

"Indeed, I have," Lucius said curtly. Snape scurried off without another word.

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am hoping this will be the rather satisfactory conclusion to this whole business. Do you feel ready to share my optimism?"

"I definitely wish so." Narcissa's arm curled around his own, and she leaned against his shoulder, breathing deeply. "Thank you. Thank you for trying, no matter what happens. And I do believe… I do think they'll be careful. I'm not sure they'll entirely stop, and that's what frightens me. But they don't have a death wish."

"That sounds like an accurate analysis," he said softly. "We'll have done our best. What class are you heading to again?"

"Runes." She checked her watch. "But I'm already quite late."

He grinned. "I have History of Magic. What is our hurry…"

"For shame, Mr Malfoy." She lightly pinched his arm, and they sat in a secluded niche in the wall, mostly concealed from the eye of the random passerby. Cissy rested her head against her companion's shoulder, her hair spilling there and tickling his neck. He stroked the silky strands absent-mindedly.

"The winter holidays are drawing near," he said in a pensive tone.

"Already. I feel like I have only just set foot in the castle again, it all went by in such a rush," Narcissa commented.

He had a dry chuckle. "Quite right," he agreed. After a pause, he went on: "I assume your family will gather and need to stand united, and I respect that. I was simply wondering whether you think you might take two days away. I would quite like to invite you over to Malfoy Manor. Sometime before New Year."

A bit shocked, she twisted around to look at him. "That is rather serious." She had been briefly at Malfoy Manor; never before had she stayed the night. Such an occasion carried a quite official weight, that was usually left to engaged couples.

"Yes, I am aware," Lucius replied coolly. "I think it appropriate, and I believe our families should as well. But if it is too early or coming at the wrong time for you, I will understand."

She hesitated. "Have you asked your parents already?" she inquired, buying time.

"No. I thought it best to wait for your approval."

Narcissa felt strongly conflicted. Of course spending more time with Lucius would always be a very appealing prospect; nevertheless, she didn't feel quite at ease with Circe and Abraxas Malfoy. That might actually have been another reason to accept, for she did wish to get somewhat closer to them. The official side of the idea, in itself, did not bother her; it felt a bit dizzying, but Lucius was in his last year of school, and he was visibly serious in his relationship with her. Although she wasn't actually self-assured enough to picture their future yet, she could not imagine being without him either. And there was another thing she couldn't quite push from her mind: picturing herself in a wide room at Malfoy Manor, she kept coming back to memories of being alone in the common room with Lucius, of melting into his arms, his hands on her back, on her hip, his lips and the white-hot coils curling and unfurling at the very pit of her stomach—the warmth spreading goosebumps and foreign sensations, her skin ever so sensitive. Her mind felt lost at such moments, and although she trusted her own sense of control and Lucius' responsibility, she still feared, despite herself, to let go and get carried away.

His fingers brushed her shoulder delicately. Narcissa jumped a little, remembering that she had not given him an answer. "I'm sorry," she said at once. "I was… lost in thought."

"That's all right," he answered smoothly. "I shall leave you time to think about it, perhaps?"

She hesitated. "Yes, that might be best," she confessed. "I do want to go… but…"

"No problem," he told her soothingly. "I am no fool, Narcissa. I realize that this is quite the step."

She kissed him. His startled lips soon moved under hers, and his hands found her waist, pulling her close so she could lean comfortably into his warmth. Their bodies drew nearer, knees touching, arms reaching to curl around their familiar shapes. She found herself almost in his lap, but his fingers were now busy sliding through her fair hair for one hand, following the length of her neck for the other. She shivered and he wrapped one arm around her upper back. Her own little palm slid down his chest.

He nipped her lower lip, a flame flared through her belly, and the bell rang shrill.

They jumped apart. Narcissa could feel the heat in her cheeks, and she had a second of panic; but Lucius put one finger to her lips and pulled her to her feet, soundlessly moving to a secret passageway that would allow them to reach the dungeons in peace. Clutching his hand, she followed. They disappeared just as the first students were rushing loudly into the hallway.

They shared a quiet laugh.

* * *

><p>"Of course you should go," Cassie said absent-mindedly. "How silly. Everything you are scared of will be solved by nothing but the act of confronting it, after all. Not much use running away if you are so sure about Lucius, is there?"<p>

"Perhaps there isn't," Cissy agreed under her breath.

"Of _course _there isn't."

The two girls were sitting in a quiet corner of the common room, discussing over idle homework. Narcissa doodled in the margin of her friend's Runes notes, considering, and Cassandra slapped her wrist. "Oh, sorry."

Cassie just curtly laughed. Narcissa set down her quill and peered at her, intrigued enough to forget about her personal concerns for the moment. Cassandra was acting a bit oddly, appeared distracted, jumpy, yet in a state of nervous excitement, for a reason she could not unravel. She had a strong feeling that there was something her friend was not telling her.

"How about you?" she asked. "Did anything interesting happen that I don't know of?"

Cassie squirmed. "Not really," she said in a slightly high voice. "Why do you ask?" Then she looked up and flashed Cissy a brilliant grin, as if she could not really help herself.

"Tell me right now," Narcissa demanded, grasping her hand.

Cassie leaned in and put her lips almost to her ear. "Virgil _kissed_ me," she breathed, pausing with an incredulous-sounding laugh.

Narcissa gasped. "Cassie! That's fantastic!" she exclaimed, to which Cassie laid an authoritative hand across her mouth. "Sorry," she added in a lower tone.

Cassandra took her hand away, flushed with mirth. Cissy observed her in wonder. She had never seen her so animated, so blatantly happy before; it was a lovely thing, and yet she couldn't help but appraise her friend's chances of getting hurt. It all depended on how serious she felt, and Cassie was such a flippant girl, it was difficult to read her. For now, she decided to keep her worries aside.

"I am so glad for you," she said warmly. "At last he made a step! Well, that took him long enough!"

"So I would say," Cassie snorted before adding quickly: "Not that I am making plans. I'm no silly girl with a crush, and I am not about to wait pining for him to gather his nerve. I shall consider myself free until he finds it in him to claim otherwise."

"Well, you will see indeed. But after the first kiss… It would be rather cowardly of him to leave it at that," Narcissa commented, musing. "What did he say?"

"Nothing much. Turned quite red, and excused himself, all babbling." Cassandra visibly meant to sound matter-of-fact, but she could not disguise the fondness in her voice.

Narcissa chuckled. "I can picture that."

"Slow progress with this boy, really. If it took us so long to progress thus far, I dread to imagine the future!"

"He might surprise you."

"I quite hope he will."

Now she was the one blushing, fiddling with her quill with fake casualness, and it made Cissy grin. She reached out to squeeze her friend's wrist. "I am happy for you."

Cassie met her eye. "Are you really? You don't think I'm inferior to him?"

"Of course not," Narcissa protested. "You are pure, clever, and a wonderful girl. At this point he should not be concerned about anything else."

Her words were quite sincere, though they did not cover the extent of her thoughts. The two girls grinned at each other.

"Well, then," Cassie said flippantly. "Shall we make a deal? You go to Lucius' old place during the holidays, and when you return to the castle I shall also have plenty of news to share. Does that sound reasonable?"

Cissy hesitated. "Tricky girl."

"Virgil is not the only one who needs prompting now and again."

Narcissa playfully swatted her.

* * *

><p>Narcissa rapidly scanned her mother's letter as she finished her cup of tea. At her side, Lucius was feigning an entire focus on his breakfast; however, she had felt his eyes flicker to her at the owl's arrival. She smiled quickly to herself.<p>

Her foot briefly touched his under the table.

Quite conveniently, Lucius was soon finished eating, and sent her a questioning look; picking up her satchel, she gracefully rose. They left the Great Hall together, arms entwined. The wide room was busy as it always was at this hour, and Cissy enjoyed the quietness of the foyer once they had passed the door, the simple fact of being alone with Lucius. It had become a habit of theirs, leaving breakfast early and having some peaceful time to themselves before the day truly began, with the hustle of classes and the wearisome mass of daily concerns.

"I have some news for you," she said as they made for the stairs.

"Good news, I dare hope."

"I think so, certainly." She hid a smile beneath a strand of her hair. "You saw that I received a letter from home. My parents are willing to allow me to have a short stay at your manor during the holidays."

She felt his hold tighten. "That is wonderful," he said. "It makes me very happy indeed."

"Such enthusiasm, Mr Malfoy," she teased. "I might have hoped for a more positive reaction."

She had been joking; but Lucius stopped, just as they were reaching the first floor, and turned to face her. Before she had any time to think, she felt his hands around her face, and then he was kissing her fiercely. Breathless, she stood on her tiptoes and leaned deeper into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his robes for support.

"Oi! You two, get a room!"

Narcissa had a little gasp and Lucius let go. Her face, already flushed from the kiss, was also burning with confusion and a bit of defiant anger as she turned to face Sirius, who had been coming down the stairs—alone. Her heart sank at the realization.

"Where are your friends?" she called.

"None of your business," he snarled back. "Not out on an evil quest against the poor wee Slytherins, if that's what you're worried about."

Lucius squeezed the hand he had just reclaimed. "I saw them at breakfast," he told her in a low voice. "Well, mostly I saw Potter. He was alone as well."

Narcissa sighed in relief. There had been no more pranks after their confrontation with Sirius' little gang, and that was an enormous relief. It took enough of her focus to act as stunned and suspicious as all of her classmates felt at this sudden, unexpected turn of events; she did not feel ready to have the anxiety return. "Did the lot of you have a fight?"

"Don't sound so hopeful," he spat.

"Could you leave us for a moment, please?" she asked Lucius quietly.

"Of course." He kissed her on the cheek and strode away.

Sirius stared, taken off guard, as Lucius walked past him. Soon the cousins stood alone before the staircase.

"What is it then?" he jeered. "Want to check everything I've been doing? I could send you reports if it helps you sleep at night." The flippant rudeness hardly disguised the bitterness.

"Are you all right?" Narcissa asked. "We never meant to draw you away from your friends. I won't pretend I appreciate them, but I don't want you to get hurt."

For a moment Sirius just gaped at her. Then he blinked, and shook his head. "Don't be such a bleeding heart," he said. "It doesn't suit you." His voice was hoarse.

"Are you scared of going home?"

A ringing silence answered her. "I'm not scared of them," he finally muttered.

"They're your parents. Your family."

"Hardly know if they want to be anymore."

"Don't be so _stupid_," Narcissa said fiercely. "Of course we want to be."

There was a pause. "I hope uncle Alphard will be there," she added. "Don't you? Father said he might be in the country at some point and come say hello."

"Of course I hope so," he said gruffly. "That's one of my reasons for coming home at all."

"What about the other reasons, then? Let's hear them."

Sirius looked away.

"You belong with us, Sirius," she told him gravely. "And you _know_ it."

"Shut up."

She started up the stairs, hoping to hug her cousin, but he danced out of her reach. There was an awkward moment. Sirius rubbed his eye with a fury.

"You'd better get to breakfast," she said softly.

He didn't look up from the ground. "Yeah."

Their shoulders brushed as he passed her. She reached out to squeeze his.

He stopped.

"And I miss Andromeda, too," he croaked. Perhaps it had meant to sound defiant.

Tears flowed Cissy's eyes, and her cousin rushed down towards the Great Hall.


	18. Unlike Me

**And at long last, here is your update. I'm ever so sorry about the delay, again—I know I told some of you that it wouldn't be too long this time, and indeed the chapter was already written, but things came up and I was working and busy and I am a very bad person and left it untyped on my notebook for ages. So there, at LAST there it is. Chapter title is picked after the song by Charlie Winston. Enjoy, hopefully!**

* * *

><p>"Almost there," Lucius announced, his gaze scanning the landscape out the window.<p>

Cissy looked up, subconsciously leaning more against him. She remained careful, for they were not alone; they shared their compartment with Cassie and Virgil Greengrass, and although she was comfortable with the two of them, she still ought to remain dignified. However, she had mixed feelings about their arrival; she would not be seeing Lucius again before a week, which was more than they had parted throughout the semester, and she was not quite sure of the state she would find her family in. She enjoyed her boyfriend's warmth and subtle scent, gathering her resolve.

"Well then." Cassie stood. She was blushing; had been for a fair amount of the ride, which was unsettling as well as somehow endearing. Virgil and she still seemed a little awkward around each other; they touched by light brushes, as if at random, did not lower their guard. Cissy had been careful not to give the impression that she was watching them too closely, and yet she clearly perceived the faint tension in the air.

"I'd better hurry. I'd like to find Sirius," she said. Rising swiftly as well, she reached out to hug her friend and kiss her cheek. "Have a good holiday!" Then she went straight for the door, knowing Lucius was following. He gently took her trunk from her as they reached the door.

"Subtle way of leaving them alone," he remarked once in the corridor.

Cissy laughed. "To be quite fair, I do want to find Sirius before we reach our family."

"Mmm." Lucius was looking at her, but he seemed lost in another train of thought. "Do you remember when we first started seeing each other—back when I was tutoring you?" he asked pensively.

"Oh, I was _rubbish_ at Vanishing charms."

"But had a lovely frown in concentration."

They chuckled at the memories, then grew serious again. "Would you rather be alone with your cousin?"

"Not until he's left his friends," Cissy responded. She squeezed his wrist lightly, knowing he understood her concern.

More and more students were gathering in the corridor as the train got nearer to the station. They pulled in, and Lucius and Narcissa stood back against the partition, peering through the crowd for a group of noisy first-years. Cissy almost wondered whether they were going to show up, but at last they arrived, apparently standing united again. Though Sirius was scowling, Potter wore a winning smile; but their heads were close together, and Lupin and Pettigrew weren't far behind. They passed the Slytherins without a second glance. Narcissa would have preferred joining her cousin in the corridor, but still she followed, sighing.

"This is where I leave you, I assume," Lucius said smoothly, once they stood on Platform 9 ¾. They shared a sweet and brief kiss, and he put down her trunk. "I will see you soon. Take care of yourself."

"I love you," Narcissa said impulsively. No sooner had the words passed her lips that she realized it was her first time speaking them out loud. She felt her own eyes widening, not sure how to react.

Lucius' answering smile was easy and reassuring. "I love you too, Narcissa," he said, and gave her another kiss before stepping away.

Her mind swimming with her emotions, Narcissa quite forgot about her cousin for the next thirty seconds. When she snapped back to reality at last, she looked around for him wildly. Potter and Pettigrew had gone, and Lupin was still talking to Sirius, but he soon stepped away, throwing her a glance. The boys parted after a brief goodbye, and Sirius, scowling her way, turned and headed in the opposite direction. She rushed after him, hauling her truck behind her.

Her longer legs giving her the advantage, she was soon able to tap his shoulder. "Things are going better with your friends, then?"

"Never went wrong in the first place," he replied gruffly. "Don't mistake your wishes for reality."

"I'm glad for you, in fact, though I can't say I would mind if you made new ones," Cissy deadpanned. "Ready to go home?"

Sirius turned to face her, so abruptly that she nearly bumped into him. She staggered. Her cousin stared up at her, looking less aggressive now and more thoroughly miserable. "No," he said. "Don't want to."

She swallowed. "There's Reg," she said tentatively. "And uncle Alphard—well, maybe."

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but a hand fell on his shoulder before he could utter a word, making both cousins jump.

"Here you are," spoke the deep voice of Orion Black. Cygnus appeared behind his shoulder, and gave Narcissa a little smile. "Hello, Narcissa, Sirius," he said.

"Let us go. We are all heading to Grimmauld Place," Orion stated curtly. Sirius winced, and his father's mouth tightened into a harder line. The man led the way, while Cygnus reached out to take Narcissa's trunk from her. Not another word was spoken until they reached the secluded part of the station from which they could Disapparate.

As they landed before the house, Narcissa squeezed her father's hand tight, slightly dizzy as always. He turned his head slightly to the side, and threw her a look and the crooked edge of a smile; but already Orion was marching Sirius inside.

"Ready?" Cygnus said under his breath, with a weary chuckle.

She sighed in response.

They could hear Walburga's booming voice just as soon as they walked in. She was, apparently, giving orders to the family house elf regarding Sirius' luggage, but her fierceness and shrill tonality betrayed different concerns. Cissy could see her shove her eldest son slightly towards the upper floors, and he scurried away without a second glance, stomping on the stairs. There was a small silhouette half-concealed in shadow, hovering and observing. "Hi, Regulus," Narcissa called.

Her youngest cousin turned to her, seemingly surprised that she had paid attention to him at all. On impulse, Cissy walked towards him and hugged him tight. She could feel him stiffen under her embrace, obviously puzzled. But he was the only member of the family who wasn't a source of worries or entangled in complex politics, and it abruptly struck her how very _grateful _she was for that simple fact.

He gently pulled away.

"You've grown," she said, smiling to disguise a bit of embarrassment. "Where are the others?"

"All gathering already," came another voice from behind Regulus. "Welcome home, sister—well, I say home as a manner of speaking, I suppose."

"Bella!" Narcissa cried, and launched herself at her sibling. Once more, she was taken off guard by the fervor of her own reaction; she realized she really had missed her family, despite the constant concerns that came with staying with them. She also realized something so very peculiar: she was worried, and quite aware of the difficult ordeals yet to come, and still she did not feel as frantic, as helpless and breathless as she once would have. It was as though she were stronger somehow, more adult, more prepared to face anything that might come her way. She smiled a little at the hint of newfound confidence.

"My, Cissy, now that was a greeting," Bellatrix said with a flippant laugh, but her arms were tight around her. Narcissa drew back to look at her, dark mane of hair, pale, beautiful face, dark glinting eyes. Same as ever, and that was soothing.

"How have you been?" she asked.

"Why, pretty good. Let's not remain standing there. Walburga is going to come back with a fury."

"Quite right," Cygnus said from behind them. "On you go, then."

They headed upstairs to the great drawing room. Narcissa could see Regulus hesitating in the doorway, but eventually he slipped inside along with the rest of them. Arcturus Black was already sitting there with Orion, who had probably joined him as soon as he entered the house, Druella and Melania. Cissy remarked that Rodolphus Lestrange was not present, although Bella, from what she had gathered, would be staying at the house just like the rest of them. Apparently his presence had not been deemed necessary or appropriate, when the family was to deal with the matter of their rebellious young heir.

Narcissa and Bellatrix settled on one of the sofas. Save for a few curt greetings, silence reigned inside the room, and they all simply waited, aware of the tension that filled the air with a crisp buzz. After a while the door flew open once more, and Sirius walked in, slightly pale and scowling, Walburga on his heels. Pollux and Irma were also just arriving. Arcturus stood, glaring down at his grandson with a fearsome eye.

"My boy," he said, voice low and dark, "you are well aware of what it means to be a Black. Do you feel that you have lived up to that great legacy?"

Narcissa thought she heard her father sigh, but she could not be quite sure. Apparently there would be no delay before conflict ignited, though it would certainly not have helped much. That scene could probably not be avoided anyhow. Bellatrix was looking grim, and Sirius raised his chin, with a hint of defiance. "I did nothing wrong," he stated. "The Hat sorted me where it thought I belonged. I didn't choose it."

"Nothing wrong?" Arcturus repeated. "Nothing wrong, when you adamantly opposed the idea of being Sorted again? Nothing wrong, when you openly disobeyed your parents, disregarded your elders' warnings, failed to answer the letters you received from the family? The nerve of you is extraordinary indeed, boy!"

Arcturus had not raised his voice—he had not needed to, it carried with chilling strength and perfect clarity; Narcissa's stomach was in knots, and Sirius' attempts to appear unimpressed were to no avail. And still she could not shake off the conviction that whatever impact the family patriarch may achieve over the boy, it would not be sufficient to drive him off his path.

As though they had been sharing the same thought, Cygnus spoke up. "I believe we are all aware of how serious the situation is," he stated. "With all due respect, Arcturus, perhaps we already ought to discuss what should be done now, so as to deal with it in the best way possible."

Arcturus nodded solemnly. "So we might."

He turned to Sirius again. "First, you will tell me the truth. Whose company have you been keeping during those past few months?"

Sirius hesitated. "I'm not going to abandon my friends!" he affirmed, but his tone lacked the confidence he had visibly been trying to manage.

He flinched and almost cowered under Arcturus' gaze. "I demand an answer," the patriarch stated calmly.

Sirius stared down at the floor. "James Potter is my best friend," he muttered.

Narcissa could see a few of them relax ever so slightly. "Pure family, despite their regrettably liberal ways," Arcturus said. "You could have done much worse. Any others?"

"Of course there are others. I get along with every Gryffindor of my year," Sirius replied loudly, finding his courage again.

Walburga made a sound of anger and dismay, but she remained quiet as Arcturus turned around and focused his gaze on Narcissa. "Have you seen your cousin keep the company of anyone other than the Potter boy, young lady?"

"There are Lupin and Pettrigrew," she replied. "Both of them come from wizarding families, but they are not very pure. The four of them are always together. Potter and Sirius seemed closest indeed, though."

Arcturus nodded solemnly. "Thank you."

"My son will not associate with the lowly and the mediocre," Walburga hissed. "I will not allow it."

"The friendship with the young Potter can be acceptable, if to be treated with caution," Arcturus responded calmly. "They are respectable enough.

"However, the other two will have to be relegated to the periphery of your acquaintance, where they belong. It is to be hoped that boys of your upbringing will require little prompting to prefer each other's company to the one of common individuals, anyhow. James Potter and yourself will understand each other."

Sirius briefly met Narcissa's gaze. The girl was sitting frozen there, watching and listening, feeling very unsure. She had meant to warn the family that she feared Potter's influence over Sirius, and its possible consequences; however, she was aware it was proving difficult enough to keep the boy under control already, and she certainly did not wish to worsen the situation. Catching her cousin's eye, she gave him the tiniest nod, reaching a decision despite her still feeling very unsure. What she knew was best kept to herself for now. She could still share her concerns with her father later, if necessary, and he would tell her what to do.

"Sirius," Arcturus went on. "Over the holidays, we will ensure that you have the occasion to rekindle acquaintances with members of good society, whom you should have shared a house with. Doubtlessly things can be arranged so you can stay at one or two proper families' at least. During those times, you will show proper behaviour and live up to the honourable name of Black. Then your reputation will, hopefully, be slightly improved, and once back to school, you shall lie low and keep to those of your friends whose blood status befits your rank. Is that understood?"

Sirius was looking furious, but he kept his gaze lowered. "Yes."

"Very well," Arcturus said. "Now, let us have dinner."

While the family moved as one to the dining room, Narcissa kept her eyes on Sirius. She was wary of the rebellious thoughts her cousin might be entertaining beneath the cloud of his dark expression, and she knew that she was unlikely to find an occasion to talk to him alone before the evening was out. That was a shame; her keeping quiet about his suspicious activities at school might have softened him in her favour. Then again, he might just also be irate that she had divulged Lupin's and Pettigrew's names, she thought dismally.

At the dinner table, the conversation began on school results. Thankfully, Sirius' were satisfactory enough; though he seemed to have adopted quite the lazy attitude in Narcissa's opinion, he was visibly gifted, and it showed. Narcissa's hard work was also praised. Naturally, her grandmother Irma inquired of her prospects soon after. Cissy saw Sirius scowl into his plate while Druella waxed lyrical about handsome, elegant Lucius Malfoy and his obvious attachment to her daughter. Though Druella would never have dreamed of lacking the appropriate discretion for a woman of her class, her enthusiasm was still openly displayed, and Narcissa smiled to herself. By her side, Bellatrix looked rather unimpressed; but it was even more the case for Cygnus, a fact which quite troubled her. She had been sure that her father would be very pleased indeed by the combination of a most promising family alliance with her personal happiness; his lack of reaction unsettled her a little.

Soon enough the men started discussing politics, and Narcissa could focus on nibbling her way through the meal in peace. She was sitting across from little Regulus, and Bella opposite Sirius; all of the cousins remained properly silent, being only required to eat and sit straight. Boredom was inevitable, but Cissy kept herself occupied by observing the faces that surrounded her, as subtly as she could.

She soon noticed that her sister was looking tired. Bella had always possessed a very energetic aura, and that had certainly not changed; however, her eyes were darkly ringed, and there was tension in her shoulders, the way she moved and carried herself. Narcissa bit her lip. Her sister's letters during the school term had been few and far between, as usual, and rather evasive; but she often commented on being very busy, and concluded by commanding Cissy not to worry. Obviously it was no social obligations that proved to play so demanding a part in Bella's life.

Narcissa wondered whether the family had given up altogether on its attempts to steer Bella away from this cause of hers, focusing instead on the more pressing matter of its heir, or whether the subject had merely been postponed, to be broached again later. She was not sure which option she found preferable; of course she wished to avoid any more tension, as much as possible, but Bella's activities could not be simply overlooked. That was something else she could discuss with her father in good time, she told herself.

Come to think about it, it might be because of the peculiar situation that none of the ladies had inquired yet as to whether Bellatrix and Rodolphus were planning to shortly produce a heir. The idea seemed a little shocking to Narcissa. She could not picture her sister as a figure of motherhood, try as she might: she was too rash, too restless—protective, surely, but not very caring. However, she would have to give a heir to the Lestrange family eventually, regardless of her preferences and character, and at age twenty she could very well have started thinking about that. But how could she dream of bringing up a child whose two parents would be engaging in illicit activities—fighting a war, even, as Bella put it? Obviously she would have to stop—which might be a reason for her to reject the idea… But should a baby be conceived anyway, he or she would probably be the reason their mother had to step away from the front lines. Cissy hoped with slight anxiety that should that come to pass, her sister would not resent the baby.

She pondered the possibility of becoming an aunt. Although she had been six at the birth of her youngest cousin, she had little memories of being around very small children. She had always been the baby sister; and motherhood had always been a mandatory, but faraway part of her future, one she rarely considered. She knew that she would marry and bear a heir, and that was that. Even now, she shied away from that train of thought, as the idea of having full responsibility over a small human being, who would entirely rely on her love and guidance for years, felt very much overwhelming. But a nephew or niece… she had never considered it much either, and found herself softening to the notion. She could be important in the child's life, watch him or her grow up. It might prepare her for doing her own parenting one day.

"Cissy, in the clouds," Bellatrix murmured in her ear, making her jump slightly. The meal was coming to an end, she noticed; immersed in her thoughts, she had paid little attention to what she was eating, or what might be going on around her. That may, after all, have been preferable.

Arcturus stood, thus granting permission for all the others to do so as well. The men retired to Orion's study, to discuss politics, or so Narcissa gathered, distracted as she still was. Druella seemed to have heard all she wished of her youngest daughter's term, and was now engrossed in conversation with Irma. Cissy turned to her sister and cousins. Sirius made to scurry away, but Walburga grasped his arm as he passed her.

"Not so fast, young man," she said in a low voice. "You heard your grandfather. We must discuss how best to put your holidays to use so that your reputation will not suffer too terrible damage. With me, if you please."

Scowling, he complied. Cissy noticed that Regulus' eye was trailing after them with a slightly concerned look. The youngest of the family appeared at a loss for what to think about the whole situation, and she slipped towards him. "How have you been, Regulus?" she asked. "Not too lonely at home?"

He jumped a little, turning his gaze to her. "No, thank you," he said. "That was quite all right."

Cissy pursed her lips. "I've been there before, you know. I was the last to go to Hogwarts." And she had had two sisters—she suppressed the thought with a wince.

"Yes." He hesitated. "But I'm all right. I've been reading a lot."

"Interesting books?"

"Oh yes. My father owns many."

Regulus looked away, and Narcissa had a distinctive feeling that no matter how uneasy he might feel about the whole affair with Sirius, he was determined to pretend. She suspected that for him, it seemed safer than having to take a stand, pick a side more or less clearly. At such a young age, indeed.

"All right," she murmured. "You won't have long to wait anyway. A few months."

Regulus nodded and had a small smile.

When Narcissa left the room and made for the chambers on the upper floors, she found Bellatrix waiting in the stairs, casually leaning against a wall. The sisters did not speak at once, just moved together until they arrived to the room that was to be Narcissa's, adjacent to Bella's. The eldest flippantly sprawled upon the bed, while Cissy preferred to perch on the edge of an armchair.

"Well then," Bellatrix drawled. "Good term, good grades, good everything."

"Quite so," Narcissa replied coolly.

"Well, has anything of interest been going on?" Bella rolled to the side and eyed her.

"You would know if you'd deigned writing more than one letter in four months."

A groan, then a grin. "Two, if you please."

"Two it is, then. Quite the impressive number, you will have to admit."

"As though letters entailed more than idle small talk most of the time. One cannot talk properly in a letter. Who knows whose hands it might end up in." She stretched. "What's this I heard about you and old Malfoy?"

"We have been seeing each other since the summer," Narcissa pointed out. "That is hardly burning news."

Bella sat up. "And you are invited to his place over the holidays."

"Why yes, I am." Short and to the point.

Her sister was frowning unhappily. "Don't go become a Malfoy on us," she groaned. "You were always such a golden little princess. This family would make you thoroughly unbearable."

"Thank you very much for your faith in me."

"And Lucius Malfoy. Always so smooth, so slippery. I never understood what you could see in him. He is nothing but masks, and politeness, and clever, elegant words, but I wonder if there's anything at all underneath."

"Well, perhaps you wouldn't know. But I know him and he makes me happy," Narcissa said curtly.

She very much wished for this part of the conversation to be over, but her sister stared straight into her eyes. "Can he really?"

She felt her face flame. "Yes." Her voice would _not_ crack. "Lucius helps me. I feel a lot stronger with him at my side than I have ever been before." Or since she had grown and left the merry lands of childhood, anyhow.

She regretted those words, so very close to a confession of weakness, almost as soon as they had escaped her mouth, but Bella slowly nodded. "You rely on him," she said. "Do be careful. Don't leave your heart in anyone's hands."

Narcissa swallowed. "Only the deserving."

"No. Even the most deserving can rip you apart."

Her sister's hands were rigid claws at her sides, around the bedsheets, she suddenly noticed. "Dependency is weakness."

Now Narcissa's pulse had become painfully fast. She wished there weren't such tension whenever she talked to her sister, conflict ready to burst or so many things left unsaid, merely implied. "How is Rodolphus?"

Bellatrix blinked. "What?"

"I asked about your husband," she repeated.

"Oh. He is well. Quite well. Sends his regards, but it seemed best if he kept away, left us Blacks together to deal with our family affairs."

"Indeed." She paused. "Is there still… conflict, in the family, over the activities the two of you are involved in?"

"The subject is hardly breached anymore. Handling Sirius has become the priority. They have realized that I am adult and married, and that the family may not choose my loyalties for me."

Narcissa bit her lip. "You are still… very much implicated, then."

"Indeed, sister, I am." There was a dangerous edge to Bella's voice now.

"Why?" she asked. "What does this bring you? Explain me."

Her sibling hesitated. She slowly sat up, and looked her straight in the eye. Her lips parted, and she shook her head. "You wouldn't get it."

Narcissa growled low in frustration. "You'll never know if you don't try."

"It makes me feel alive," she said, the words coming fast and harsh, all of a sudden. "The purpose. The power. It made me feel, for the very first time, like I had some agency over my life. Like I could change things. Like I could be great. Respected, and feared, and remembered. I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not. My passion, my faith are fuel to our decisive fight. And I'd give anything to win this war we've started, Cissy. I'll fight with every last ounce of strength, every last drop of my blood for the cause."

As she spoke, her face had flushed earnestly, and her eyes glowed. But Narcissa felt as cold and helpless as her sister found power in the fire. She had long stopped believing that she could, by any play of their affection and her influence, make Bella stop. However, the latter's passion had always seemed quite foreign, and to touch it with the tip of her finger and find it so wide, so deep and searing hot was quite the shock indeed. She struggled to conceal that as she watched the exaltation drain from Bellatrix's features—as they turned to steel.

"See," she uttered icily. "I told you so."

Narcissa shivered. "No, I understand," she lied. "It's so very important."

"And it makes you frightened." She nodded. "Quite right. Well, never fear. I can keep myself safe."

"What about him, then?" Cissy dared.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Your leader." She hesitated. "The man you call the Dark Lord."

Bellatrix's face twitched. "Yes. What about him?"

Narcissa shrugged a little awkwardly. "What is he like?" she tried. "He must be quite the impressive personality if his cause holds such weight to you."

"He is a very great man," Bella said curtly. "The most powerful wizard I've ever known. The most powerful, perhaps, to have ever walked this earth."

Narcissa was careful to keep any doubt or derision from her face. "I see."

Bellatrix was fidgeting now, showing signs of impatience. "I'll leave you to unpack," she said. "We'll have all of the holidays to talk if needed."

"Yes," Narcissa agreed. "I'd like that."

Her sister did not comment. She rose swiftly and made for the door, and as she walked by, Cissy leaned in to catch her wrist.

"Goodnight, Bella," she said. She stretched up to kiss her sister's cheek.

"Goodnight," the latter murmured in return, before gently breaking free.

The door clicked closed behind her, and Narcissa sat still, her head full of a swirl of tumultuous thoughts.


	19. Body Electric

**Oh my god, I'm so terribly sorry about the delay. It's so utterly pitiful I can't really say anything to make up for it—I can only hope that this chapter does, to some extent. Enjoy! (More notes at the end.)**

**Chapter title is from the song by Lana del Rey.**

* * *

><p>On the morning of December 30th, Narcissa Black lay awake for hours, turning over and over again without managing to allow rest to find and settle over her.<p>

Eventually she had to get up, though she feared to look tired come daylight. A small suitcase stood, ready, by her door and her robes hung before her closet. Cissy dressed, combed her long hair and swept it up in a light bun, carefully applied a small quantity of make-up. Once she deemed herself satisfied, she turned away from her reflection in haste, finding that it would be unwise to spend time unnecessarily dwelling on the assets and flaws of her appearance, today of all days.

Narcissa tiptoed down the stairs in the still-quiet house. Clutching her suitcase in one hand, she made for the drawing room, pausing for a second before the door, slightly unsure. She turned the knob.

Her father was there, as she had expected. Cygnus calmly looked up at her, lowering his paper to his lap, his other hand holding a cup of tea. She walked into the room, setting her luggage down close to the fireplace, and smiled at him. He gave her a tiny smile back.

"Couldn't sleep either, could you?" he said softly.

Narcissa shook her head no. "I was nervous," she confessed, feeling the need to be open. "This is quite the important occasion for me."

His face darkened a little. "Oh, I know." He glanced down at his paper.

"Anything of interest here?"

"No, there isn't. Nothing we ought to be concerned about," he replied, and she relaxed a little.

"Good, then."

"It is," he said curtly. Narcissa observed her father's face.

"What is the matter, Father?" she asked softly.

He did not look up at once. When he did, his features were smooth, giving away little.

"I had disagreements with Abraxas Malfoy back in the day," he said coolly. "I have to confess I did not feel quite comfortable watching you get closer to his family at first. However, the history of the fathers should not compromise the future of the children, this union being, in itself, perfectly fitting and acceptable."

She slowly nodded. Cygnus gave his youngest daughter another smile, visibly meaning to reassure her. It partly worked. She took a seat across from him, squeezing her hands in her lap.

"Lucius really does make me happy," she said quietly. Though he did not glance at her again, she knew that he was listening. "He has been such a support."

"I believe that boy must be good to his own," he commented, "but terrible to his foes, like other Malfoys before him."

"Very well then, for we are not his foes."

He gave her another small smile. "We are not, indeed. Do not imagine that I am not glad for you, Narcissa. If Lucius Malfoy is the right man for my daughter, then you shall have my blessing."

"Thank you," she simply answered.

They remained sitting there in comfortable silence. Cygnus soon ordered the house-elf to bring a cup of tea for Narcissa as well, and she sipped it slowly, grateful for something to do with her hands. Minutes were ticking by, and they started hearing other family members stir in the house. Druella came down to see whether Narcissa was ready, flanked by Walburga. She dealt with the necessary small talk with grace, despite the coils in her stomach.

At nine o'clock sharp, the flames flashed green in the fireplace and Lucius came striding out at last. Cissy stood from her armchair, heart beating very fast. Lucius walked forward to greet her father, the only one who had remained in the room with her; the men shook hands with whispered pleasantries. Cygnus' face remained smooth and he made no personal comment whatsoever, allowing Lucius to turn to Narcissa at once.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded, and Lucius gallantly levitated her suitcase into the hearth before offering her his arm. She squeezed it lightly, and they stepped together into the flames, Cissy calling a last goodbye over her shoulder.

When they arrived in the great drawing room of Malfoy Manor, Circe Malfoy stood there waiting for them. Cissy could smell her perfume as she approached to kiss her cheek. The woman gave her a pleasant smile that looked quite genuine, though she was hard to read as always.

"Welcome here, Narcissa," she said. "It is a pleasure to have you."

Cissy curtseyed gracefully. "The pleasure is all mine, Madam Malfoy."

Lucius cleared his throat lightly. "Your luggage has been taken to the room you will be staying in. Do you want me to show you? Then, perhaps, I could give you a tour of the manor."

"That sounds very nice," she said lightly, but Circe intervened: "Do join me for breakfast. Lucius, dear, surely you will have all the time in the world for a tour! Let Narcissa settle down, she's only just arrived."

Lucius smiled. "Quite right, Mother." He met Narcissa's gaze briefly, and she nodded. "Thank you, ma'am," she said softly.

Circe's answering smile was kind, with a subtle edge.

They sat around an ornate wooden table in the adjacent dining room, countless goods laid out before them. It appeared that Abraxas Malfoy would not be joining them as of yet, and Circe focused her whole attention on Narcissa, asking pleasantly about her family and her last term at school. The girl answered without missing a beat, determined to win the other woman over, or at least to convince her of her worthiness. Deep down, she felt threatened by Circe's quiet insight, fearing to falter and prove inadequate to this accomplished lady, all style and control.

While Circe was taking a sip of her tea, Cissy felt a hand close around her wrist under the table. She jumped a little and her teacup rattled in its saucer. Beside her, Lucius' eyes widened ever so slightly as he withdrew.

Circe looked up and sent them a smile, giving no comments.

Narcissa slowly released the breath stuck in her lungs, and her fingers found Lucius' under the table, grateful for the support.

* * *

><p>"Here you are then, Narcissa."<p>

She curtseyed gracefully.

Narcissa had had but very few and short encounters with Abraxas Malfoy. She found the man impressive, with his steel eyes and charisma. The keen irises seemed to pierce her; whereas Lucius' were cool, his father's seemed quite cold—but he smiled as he gestured to the seat at his immediate right.

Lucius was quiet at her side.

They had just returned from an afternoon spent at Diagon Alley, being but another young couple

as they wandered around in the biting cold, fingers entwined. The manor claimed them again in a rush of golden heat, leaving one slightly light-headed. But Abraxas showed kindness that hindered a stifling return of Narcissa's anxieties. Left to Circe for breakfast, she now found herself the focus of the father's attention; and he acted charming, courteous, genuinely curious about her and her interests. Though as impressive as his wife, he appeared less intricate, his judgments more open instead of secretive. Cissy preferred that, and found herself relaxing, talking animatedly as she ate. Circe smiled pensively over them, and Lucius did not stir.

Dinner stretched and drew to an end without Narcissa noticing. She felt warm, slightly giddy from Abraxas' apparent acceptance, although she was careful to remain perfectly in control. The man smiled upon her coolly, and kept her by his side in the drawing room, as he sipped a glass of eau-de-vie and they discussed a common interest in Runes. Circe was reading; Lucius was not. He held a book, but his posture was too rigid and despite his having expressed no interest in the conversation, Cissy suspected he was listening.

As it grew late, she rose, and Circe and Abraxas both bade her goodnight quite pleasantly. Lucius declared he'd walk her to her room, and th threaded their way through richly-coloured corridors, quiet. He was too far to reach his hand, apparently lost in thought. They navigated the grand maze to the guest room he had showed her earlier, in which her things awaited her return. She sat upon the bed, hands folded on her lap.

"Is something the matter?" she inquired. Lucius frowned.

"No—quite all right." He slowly paced the room, none the nearer. Narcissa shifted from her position.

"Is that so? You seemed rather quiet this evening."

"My father did the talking, did he not?" he swiftly retorted. His tone was calm. Cissy was not fooled.

"Does that bother you?"

He shrugged, but the tension in his jaw gave an obvious answer. Narcissa fidgeted nervously. She had been so happy about Abraxas' attitude to her, and now it appeared to displease Lucius. She wondered if he felt deprived of attention, thrown to the shadows. That did not seem like Lucius at all, but no son of Abraxas Malfoy's would find it easy to impose themselves and be noticed in their father's presence. She peered at him, considering, then rose.

Lucius paused as she moved towards him. "I am quite glad that your father seemed to like me," she said quietly. "Your family is important to me."

He nodded, worrying his lip until she touched it with a finger. "Talk to me."

"There is really nothing specific," he admitted with reluctance. "I simply was not quite comfortable—" He broke off, then shrugged. "He acted as though he wanted to claim you. I've seen him do that before. It made me ill at ease that he would behave in such a way with you. It doesn't feel genuine at all."

Narcissa pretended she wasn't wounded. After all, she told herself as she, for distraction, slowly let her fingertip travel along Lucius' lips, he was making an assumption about his father's character, not the likelihood of the latter finding _her_ agreeable. It was not she he distrusted, but Abraxas.

"Why would he be interested in making me like him? If he approves of our match, he needs but be pleasant enough. We require no more prompting to remain together." A slight, superstitious chill went through her as she voiced the sincere words. She forced herself to ignore the natural uncertainty and think rationally. Indeed, should Lucius or herself have a common future or not, Abraxas' opinion would hardly weigh in the balance, given that he did not overtly disapprove of the match.

Lucius sighed. "I do not know, Narcissa." Frowning, he gently pushed her fingers away, whilst keeping her hand in his. "I only thought he was trying too hard, luring you in. I have no clue why he would deem it necessary."

For a moment Narcissa was reminded of her own father's words, and she experienced, as well, a sliver of doubt. But she knew that allowing the slight unease to take over, adopting a wary attitude, would do more harm than good—she was on her guard around Circe already. Perhaps Abraxas simply knew that, and it was his way of restoring some balance, ensuring that she would find the possibility of becoming someday a part of Lucius' family to be a pleasant one. That made sense, and fitted the assumption that his partiality for her came from the head and not from the heart.

"No matter," she said quietly, and stood on tiptoe to kiss Lucius.

He made a muffled sound against her lips, but his arm found itself around her waist and then she was pressed flush against him, her heart beating through her ribs against his chest, a rapid tempo she hoped to be soothing. Their mouths moved together in secretive, familiar patterns and she relished in the taste and feel of him—thin, soft lips against hers, and her teeth grazed playfully against the lower one, causing a slight groan that rumbled through his throat, left echoes in her stomach and through her bones, from skull to spine to tiptoes. She shivered and he chuckled, each in time wondering in the power they held over each other—that strange harmony of the soul and the flesh that made one's move automatically shift the other. They drew slightly apart, Lucius' eyes sparkling silver as they wrapped her in a warm, _heated _gaze. Her lips curved into a smile.

Narcissa stepped back and sat, demure, upon her bed again. Lucius slid to her side, facing her as his hand glided along the back of her neck—causing it to arch slightly under the touch, shivers like pinpricks racing beneath the skin—and then down against her collarbone, tracing the delicate shape. He leaned forward again and she met him in the middle for a kiss that curled her toes. Now his hand was on her waist, drawing her closer. Her legs folded close to her chest and she kicked off her stiletto heels, feet curling against the edge of the bed.

She was a small ball in his arms, wrapped up and curled tight and safe, but her knees pressed into his chest when he edged nearer still, and he broke away with a chuckle. She laughed too, cheeks flaming, and scooted back from the edge of the bed to the middle, legs stretched out before her. He followed and they swiftly resumed their kissing, falling once more into an embrace.

Inch after inch, they leaned further back—until Narcissa was lying down fully, with Lucius hovering over her. He kissed her and kissed her and her head was swimming, there was nothing else but the realities of Lucius' warmth on the one side of her body and the soft bed on the other, into which she was sinking, sinking. Drowning and melting, she managed short breaths, then inhaled more deeply as he drew away for a second, to look at her.

"Narcissa Black, was that your way of getting me off track?" he whispered.

She blinked innocently up at him. "Whatever do you mean? I was getting the impression that you were the one being slightly carried away."

He chuckled and nuzzled against the side of her face. His hot breath tickled her ear, and his teeth as well, making her gasp—as he nipped the lobe delicately, and a shiver rocked through her. His fingers slipped beneath the back of her neck, caressing the sensitive skin before they slid smoothly into her bun. Narcissa raised her head. Together, they slowly removed the pins that held her hair up, freeing strand after strand until they all tumbled to her shoulders.

Her golden locks wrapped around his hand, he pressed his face against—_into_—them and inhaled slowly.

"It's like silk," he muttered. She had a high, self-conscious giggle.

He looked down at her face again. "I'm quite serious, you know."

"I wouldn't doubt that," she responded in what she intended to be a light and cool tone, but the breathy quality of her voice caused him to smirk and she delivered a tiny punch to his shoulder.

"Do not mock me."

"Do not turn things around," he retorted. "And there is no need to hit me for emphasis." He bent his head and dropped a swift kiss on her small fist, too.

Then they were kissing again. Her veins tingled and her heart raced, and Lucius' frame was solid and soft against her, unyielding, safe. He folded himself around her, keeping her nestled near. But her skin itched. She stretched her arms behind his head, slid one hand into his hair, let the other trace the curve of a shoulder. Down, then up again, and she brushed the tips of her nails against the back of his neck, slipped her fingers into his collar. His flesh was so warm beneath, and she was craving more.

He sat up. She had felt him tremble slightly, and it made her tremble as well, on the surface and inside, bubbles of emotion and need sparking to life at the core of her. Lucius held her gaze with smothering eyes before he, having seemingly found there what he was looking for, proceeded to remove his robes. He wore a simple shirt and trousers underneath, and her fingers attacked his buttons as he leaned close again, seeking the skin underneath. Soon she could press her palms to his bare chest, and he shivered at her touch.

His own hands brushed her waist, travelling up her sides. A mix of fear and want bit at Narcissa's throat, and, for the first time, a rational thought occurred to her. "What are we doing?" she panted against his lips.

He drew away. There were a few beats of silence, unbroken but by their slightly ragged breaths.

"Getting carried away, apparently," he eventually whispered, and reached to close his shirt. She gripped his wrist automatically.

Their eyes met. "You don't want this," he said. "Do you?"

"We shouldn't…" She struggled for words, _no_ and _yes_ equally wrong. He put a finger to her lips, hushing her with his eyes locked into hers. "Just tell me," he finally said, his voice even.

She breathed. "We aren't engaged," she managed. "We don't know yet…" She faltered.

"We don't know yet whether we will end up together?"

His gaze was intense, smothering. Heart sinking and swaying, she still nodded, and he hesitated.

"Narcissa," he said very low. "You are right, of course. But since this apparently isn't as clear as it ought to be, let me tell you one thing—I care nothing about the flightiness of young love's promises. There is no other woman I could imagine spending my life with right now."

Coherent thought was lost to flames, and as he made to sit up and rise, she gripped his shirt and impulsively pressed his lips to hers.

"Thank you," she breathed against his mouth.

He had a small chuckle. "You are quite welcome—my love."

The fierce intensity with which he spoke the word knocked the air from her lungs and any scrap of reason from her mind. She pulled him to her by the wrists, placing his hands on her as testaments of trust. They brushed and caressed, outlined the shape of her in a way that made her feel more _real _than she ever had before.

Her dress flew, landing in a blue, silken heap at the foot of the bed.

He mapped her bare skin with his lips, teased and kissed and explored the wandering of veins, as she lay offered. He tasted her and traced her, leaving her trembling under him with greedy hands. Her small fingers pressed against his chest, nails scratching a nipple lightly, and he groaned.

He travelled further, eliciting small gasps in revenge. They kissed, light-headed.

Lucius tucked the warm, languid form of Narcissa beneath the sheets, where she curled, holding his gaze. He rose slowly. His chest was still open, his hair mussed from her hands. For a minute, it seemed they would never quite break eye contact.

He managed, step after step, to back away as he arranged himself, finding some composure again. She smirked.

"I believe I have yet to bid my parents goodnight," he spoke, voice hoarse. "It would be unwise to delay any further."

"Quite so," she responded, feeling victorious for her cool, level voice. "Do thank them for me again."

"I don't think I will," he retorted, but smiled widely at her and eventually found the door. At the cost of a greater effort still, he passed its threshold, turning back to steal one more look as he called: "Goodnight."

"Goodnight to you," she whispered, and nestled into the warmth, shutting her eyes tightly.

* * *

><p><strong>*bites fingers* Well, I hope this didn't disappoint. A specification: Narcissa's position about virginity is a personal interpretation and in no way linked to my own. My interpretation is that although the wizarding world doesn't require virginity until marriage (which is a notion greatly linked to religion), it still considers a witch's first time to be laden with meaning, magical as well as emotional, and thus to be preserved for her future husband. Read: best wait until you're securely engaged. Narcissa's uncertainties therefore come into play… Besides, they are quite young still ;)<strong>


	20. Ghost Gunfighters

**Oh, goodness. Yeah, I'm sorry about the huge updating delays, again… In my defense, I've been writing a novel, translating, and being almost entirely stolen by another fandom, so… yeah. I'm sorry I'm neglecting this story, and I hope that whatever updates I can still offer remain satisfactory somehow. Thanks a million for anyone who's still sticking to this story!**

**Dedicated to The Hapless Quill, Hearts' number one cheerleader. Sorry I failed lamentably at updating for your birthday, dearie and thanks for being so very understanding!**

**Happy New Year to everyone! The Blacks don't care for common Muggles like the lot of us, but I'm sending lots of hugs and love all around. Chapter title is from the song by As Animals. I'll shut up now.**

* * *

><p>Narcissa edged at the top of the staircase of the 12, Grimmauld Place, one hand gripping the banister.<p>

Her sister came striding around the corner, nodding as she saw her. "They are still in there lecturing Sirius one last time," she announced. "Not quite sure what good it'll do. He needs to have some sense beaten into his head, but by Merlin, in his place I'd be tired sick of them all at this point."

"Too bad uncle Alphard couldn't make it for Christmas," Narcissa said, sighing.

Bella grimaced. "I know."

Gripping her sister's elbow, she proceeded to drag her back up the stairs, to the latter's astonishment. "Oh, be quiet," she threw over her shoulder. "I told you, they won't be done so soon. And _we _have things to be discussing."

She pushed her back into her room, ducked around the truck that awaited to be fetched by the house-elf, and collapsed onto the bed, peering up at her sister. "So," she said. "Those two days? I barely had a chance to talk to you at the ball, you arrived with the Malfoys, all but part of their little clique, and spent the whole evening on Lucius' arm."

"I enjoyed myself a lot," Narcissa replied, refusing to blush. "I hope you had a similarly good time—and do not pretend you had no occasions to talk to me the next day."

Bellatrix snorted. "I was _sleeping_."

"Not the whole day, I should hope."

"In this household, certainly not. They make me feel like a teenager again."

"Well, if you'd brought your husband…" Cissy started, but Bellatrix cut her off:

"You know very well why I'm keeping him away, Narcissa. Busy as they are with Sirius, everybody seems to have forgotten they meant to keep fussing over me until I changed my ways, and I won't be the one to remind them. Now, don't change the subject, please. The Malfoys."

"Are perfectly agreeable and make me feel most welcome."

Bellatrix groaned. "_Beyond _welcome. I was worried you'd forget you weren't going home with them, and that Father would have to come and claim you back. The little gang of blondes appeared to get along perfectly."

"Abraxas was simply delightful. And I used not to be so comfortable around Circe, but I believe that we might be getting accustomed to one another. She certainly seemed warmer to me."

Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut and Narcissa slapped her on the shoulder. "That is a _good thing_. Could you even pretend to be happy for me—no, wait—pretend not to be so spiteful and acidic?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't," Bella bit back, then sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I do want to be glad that things are going well for you—but the _Malfoys_…"

"Well, what is wrong with them?" Narcissa exclaimed, with a little more fire than she had first intended. "They are most pleasant people!"

"Yes, Cissy, they're pleasant, I'll give you that. I do not feel they can be trusted, however," Bellatrix pointed out. "I wouldn't rely on Lucius at all."

"Quite all right, since I will be the one relying on him. I wish you would listen to yourself! Are we not Slytherins? We know how to defend our interests and look after our own. That is what the Malfoys do, just like us and every other deserving family. Should I ever become bound to them, that is what I'll do for them and vice versa."

"Do not patronize me, Cissy," Bella said dangerously. "I am well aware of all that, and still I do not trust them."

"Well, you don't need to mock them or attack them in my presence," Narcissa responded in as composed and dignified a manner as she could achieve. "I would appreciate it if you could refrain from doing that in the future."

The corner of Bellatrix's mouth twisted. "I'll try," she said abruptly, and rose from the bed.

"You don't need to go."

"They might be done by now," her sister pointed out. On the doorstep, she called over her shoulder: "Do remember that it is for you I am still here in the first place."

"Yes, I know that." Narcissa stepped out of the room after her, and reached to catch her hand in the dimly lit corridor. Her sibling turned back in surprise, but did not comment.

At the foot of the stairs, they found Regulus waiting with an uneasy look on his face—but as Bellatrix had foreseen, the elders were indeed filing out of the great drawing room and they soon could all proceed with their departure. Narcissa had to suppress a wince at Sirius' grim expression. She wished she had more time to catch the two brothers alone, give them a bit of reassurance or relate to them somehow, but Sirius ducked around her as she made to stand by him, and Regulus remained equally elusive, lost in the group their whole family formed. Her only chance at closeness came at the time of hugging him goodbye—an accepted interlude, but one that should not be made to overly linger.

"Next term you'll be with us," she told the young boy, and he actually smiled.

"Quite right," he whispered. "Thanks." Then he returned to his parents' side, and Cissy briefly embraced hers one last time, squeezed her sister's hand and rolled her eye at the latter's bored expression, before she turned away to board the train with Sirius.

Her gaze flitted across the platform, and caught the Malfoys, small and elegant group, standing out from the crowd. Her eye met Lucius' and the latter gestured her forward. She had a moment's hesitation; but it proved vastly sufficient for Sirius to slip from her side and get lost among the throngs of students without so much as a second glance, and, suppressing a sigh, she made towards her boyfriend's family.

Although Abraxas and Circe had been on their leave, she was greeted warmly. As she stood before them, she felt Lucius' hand curl around hers and they stood, fingers entwined, a picture of unity. Then they made their way towards the train, and Narcissa felt like nothing could touch her now.

As long as she had Lucius, she would be prepared to face anything.

* * *

><p>The letter arrived early in the morning.<p>

Lucius had been kept by some task linked to his responsibilities as a Head Boy, and she was having breakfast while talking to Cassandra when the plain brown owl landed in front of her with a small thud. From the first glance, she deemed it unfamiliar and raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. She usually received mail from her relatives, or sometimes from other pureblood families in the occasion of a social event. None of them would have used such a common animal. As she watched, it hooted impatiently, and she had to reach out and take the scroll of parchment it was holding out to her.

The bird took off and Narcissa turned the letter over in her hands. Carefully, she undid the simple black thread that held it rolled up, and unfolded the parchment.

The familiar handwriting felt like a punch to her heart and lungs, drawing the strength straight out of her. The parchment almost fell from her suddenly limp fingers. She tossed it aside.

Narcissa sat back on her chair, breathing hard. "What is it?" Cassie asked in alarm.

She could not speak the name, not after so long. She merely shook her head, disbelief washing over her, failing to overcome the renewed ache. Cassie gripped her wrist and she squeezed back, the pressure like a lifeline. Oxygen. She needed to keep control.

Control.

"Cissy, what? You're scaring me," Cassie whispered.

"It's _her_." And no more words were required. Cassandra paled in shock and understanding, holding on tighter still, hard enough to hurt—but Narcissa didn't mind; her friend's grasp anchored her, to sanity and reality.

"Let's go," Cassie spoke urgently, and Cissy absently nodded. She followed, numb, taking the letter as they left, although she yearned to leave it behind.

Through the corridors they walked, Cassie leading her—all the way down to the dungeons and their dormitory, where Narcissa collapsed on her bed, feeling drained beyond words. Cassie sat beside her, cross-legged and quiet, and the letter lay between them.

Minutes passed.

Narcissa turned her head and met her friend's eye. She held her gaze for a moment, without a word. Then she sat up and read.

_Narcissa,_

_I cannot not write to you. I know you will think this letter outrageous, perhaps you won't even read it. Or perhaps you will, if after all this time, you still miss me. I wouldn't know, sister. Still, I must write—not doing so at this moment seems impossible. Do thereon as you will._

_I am pregnant. I've been suspecting it for a while, I simply couldn't really bring myself to face up to the fact. Eventually I did have to, as reality catches up with one in the end. My husband is beside himself with happiness. At first I could not feel much but astonishment and terror. It is a slow process coming to terms with this, but a child is growing inside of me, and I know I will love him or her with all of my heart. I wonder if that is enough. I never really pictured myself as a mother before._

_In my dismayed state, I did not know to whom to turn and the faces of my late family were the ones I could not shake from my head. I am well aware, however, that, through my life choices, I have lost any right to your understanding, advice or support—to anything but your disgust at my current situation. Thus I made no such requests. Now that I find myself more secured, prepared, despite my anxieties, to welcome my child into this world and offer them the best of me, informing you of their existence is a pressing necessity I absolutely could not dismiss. I am going to be a mother, Narcissa. You will be an aunt—to a baby whose very existence, due to their father, must seem appalling to you, I know that. But still they will be born from my flesh, with Black blood running through their veins. I cannot but hope that the idea will not leave you cold._

_I am also notifying Mother and Father. Not Bellatrix; although it kills me to find myself unable to share with her these news, I know that it would be absurd and even downright dangerous. The atmosphere of the current times often fills me with dread and frightful speculations, and I must first of all protect the safety of my new family. I can only hope that you, my sisters, are looking after one another. I also hope the boys are well and Sirius is happy in his first year at Hogwarts. Once more, those concerns are some I should have no right to word, but they are strong and present in my heart, always._

_Goodbye, sister of mine. In this time of great change in my life, despite everything that happened, my love and thoughts go to you._

_Your sibling still and forever, _

_Andromeda_

Narcissa could not breathe as she reached the end of the page. Trembling, she pushed the parchment away and folded her arms across her chest, holding tight and trying to regain control, push some oxygen into her clenched lungs. Cassandra reached out and grasped her wrists, then embraced her, surrounding her with her presence, her warmth and perfume. Cissy drank it all in, seeking comfort and finding some, though fleeting, in her friend's support.

"What does she say?" Cassie asked eventually, quietly.

"She's going to have a baby." The words felt hollow, sounded backward, ludicrous, to the ear; it was a wonder she had managed to find her voice at all. Cassandra gasped in shock.

"With the Mudblood?" At once, her hand flew to her lips. "Goodness, Narcissa, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That is probably the last thing you needed to be reminded of."

"Don't worry. I cannot quite see how it could possibly feel any worse than it already does." She tried a weak smile, but bravery failed to hold it in place.

"But why is she even _telling _you?" Cassandra paused. "I mean, it's obvious. It's quite obvious that some part of her, however small, is hoping to see you come back to her, get back in touch. But does she really believe it could ever happen? And to her, is that attempt worth hurting you all over again? It seems so… delusional."

Narcissa nodded weakly. "She also told my parents."

"Oh, dear Salazar."

"Well, it's all right. We will be all right. This doesn't change anything."

She clung to the words as though the mere action of stating them could turn them into solid reality, make it all better. Of course it changed nothing—and of course it fearfully mattered nonetheless. The image of Andromeda with a round, swollen belly, of Andromeda holding a child, appeared to have seared itself onto her brain. It offered striking contrast with the sister she had known, so independent, loath to see her freedom restrained by the duties of the family. But perhaps a pure, powerful family had smothered her, been too much for her to handle. Perhaps she had been yearning, all along, for the dirty and the decadent—sickly fascinated, believing that to lower herself would be to make herself entirely free, too repelling to be claimed.

No. No, she hadn't sought to debase herself, that was not Andromeda—but she had been caught in circumstances, and made her choice, the wrong choice. And now she was lost. This child was infamy: the thing that would make everything all the more certain and set in stone, make Andromeda forever forbidden, unreachable insofar as she hadn't been already. Narcissa told herself that and hated herself for still imagining the baby: tiny, pink, with the appearance of lovely innocence—so deceiving. A nephew or niece, born in filth, from filth, and that she could never, ever hold, or even see.

She stifled a sob. Cassandra leaned in to embrace her again.

She clung to her in return, heart pounding.

* * *

><p>"Forgetting that, aren't you?"<p>

Narcissa whirled around, arms overflowing with books.

Adrian Travers stood leaning against the wall of the common room, a smirk on his lips, pointing to a small heap of parchments resting at the foot of the table Narcissa had just been working at. The girl groaned. "Oh, no."

"Tables not wide enough for you?"

"Hardly. The amount of homework piling up on us and of books required these days just dazzles the mind."

"Got to admit that. Still. Getting behind doesn't help."

Narcissa glared at him. "I haven't been getting behind," she snapped, defensive at once.

"Well, I do see you sitting around with heaps of books all the time. Staring into space. Last time I checked, that wasn't how assignments got done."

"Travers. You are going to make me late for class," she growled.

He raised his hands in a show of innocence. "Easy, there. I'm not looking to just tease or bother you. We might as well stay friends, yes? That is what I wanted, at least. I always knew you'd end up with a society boy, someone from your world, and I didn't throw a huge fuss when I could feel you were slipping away from me, if you remember—nor after it was over, when you started dating Malfoy and wouldn't even look at me again. I'm not the enemy."

She bit her lip. "I didn't think you were. I'm just busy."

"Yes, that much is obvious. Busy enough to skip lunch, too. That's bad habits for you."

"I went to the Great Hall to grab a bite," she defended herself, blushing in confusion. "Those are _old_ habits, if you must know. The past."

He nodded. "I'm pretty glad to hear that, Narcissa. Still. If you're so hectic, run to the dormitory to put aside some of those books. I'll help you carry the rest and those parchments there when you come back."

"I can ask Cassie when she gets here."

"Also very glad you made up with Cassie Burke, but she doesn't have to be your only friend in the world, for Merlin's sake."

She considered, and then, as her books really were putting a strain on her arms—damn the rules banning magic outside of class—she nodded and skipped away. Travers was still waiting at the same spot when she returned, and he leaned away from the wall and gave her an easy grin.

"Well, that's better." As she was setting the rest of her books on the table to grab the parchments, he stepped closer and started helping her arrange them. "You wouldn't need those but for pretty late assignments," he pointed out. "And you don't have to carry them around if you work in the common room."

"I'd rather not spend too much time running back and forth from the dormitory."

"That hectic, then."

She pulled a face at him, and he hefted a pile of the books into his arms. "Let's go, lady."

To her relief, they walked part of the way in comfortable silence. Only as they were nearing the classroom did Travers speak again: "Well, I can only wish you good luck in managing everything. One can see you really don't have a mind to working these days."

"Thanks, I suppose," she retorted, "but I am managing fine. Doing my best."

"Easy to see you're worried. With your Malfoy being so _busy _all the time, and all." He clicked his tongue. "I get why you'd have a hard time keeping focused, overall. Thanks goodness the pranks all but stopped, too, that really was a strain."

Cissy frowned. "Lucius is a Head Boy," she replied with a touch of ice in her tone. "And a seventh year. I don't see how his being very busy could make me worried. If anything, we understand each other's obligations all the better."

He threw her a quick glance. "Right," he grunted. "Won't mention it."

"Mention what?"

He kept staring straight ahead, neglecting to answer. "_Mention what?_" she repeated more loudly.

He winced. "Oh, stop it. I just thought you _could _have been worried, and—and you seemed to have become pretty dependent on him lately. Oh well, might just be my slightly bitter point of view, but you were always hanging out with him, looking for all the world like you couldn't imagine needing anyone else… and now that he's going to leave the castle soon, he spends his time conspiring with people here and there, working his… web of contacts, you could say. Anyone could wonder what he's up to. We live in a troubled world… Having many acquaintances can sure lead you many places." He trailed off.

"I don't understand what you are trying to say, Travers," she spoke coldly.

"I didn't mean to _tell _you anything, I thought I was just mentioning something you were already aware of." He paused. "You know, just an odd thought. Slytherin circles are a lot about contacts, and that boyfriend of yours knows a lot of people. Younger students he took under his wing, and older ones still, I wouldn't doubt. But that's none of my business. If you're not concerned, then you probably have no reason to be." He wasn't looking at her face.

"You are talking in riddles."

"Don't pay attention, then," he grunted. They had reached the classroom, and he dumped her pile of parchments on a desk. "Don't mind me. It's not like _I _would know exactly what a pureblood man and their bunch of acquaintances would have to say to each other. I don't run with the same crowd. Could very well be getting the wrong idea entirely."

Narcissa shook her head, quite entirely puzzled. "I'm still not sure what you are trying to warn me about."

"Once more… you would know much better than I would. Sorry. Shouldn't have said a thing—I wouldn't want you to think I'm spilling nonsense about Malfoy to get you back." He laughed bitterly.

"I think you're just concerned. Mostly. Now, what about is another question."

He cracked a smile. "You got that right. It's not like I'd have my chances anyway."


	21. NOT AN UPDATE—goodbye note

So this is time for a clarification. I don't like doing this, but it has to be done… I've come to realize that Sentimental Hearts had dropped very low in my motivation, for many months now. I've told myself I could still go on bit by bit, because I hate the idea of leaving a fic uncompleted, and because I didn't want to let the readers down. But more and more it has been about not letting people down, not something I wanted to do myself—and I can lie to myself that it's enough, but the truth is, it's not. I have switched fandoms almost entirely; the plotlines I started planning back in 2011 for Hearts are just something hazy and faraway now. This story is not going to be completed, and I realized I needed to just accept and own up to it. I owe that much honesty to the wonderful people who've stuck with me thus far, and as for myself, I'd rather acknowledge things as they are. Hearts has been a wonderful project to work on, and I wish I'd been better at handling it, but at this point I'll be better off leaving it behind once and for all, rather than acting complacent by both refusing the failure and neglecting to resume the work.

This is it—quite officially, this story will remain as it is with very low odds to ever being updated. I want to thank anyone who read this thus far, or even only part of the work. I'm dedicating the story to The Hapless Quill, who never failed to be wonderfully supportive, generous, understanding and squeeful. Thank you as well to Nuna Hatem and SKINNYxLOVE for their enthusiasm and love. And Lizzie, dear, I'm sorry I'm dropping this just as you'd caught up. Feel free to beat me for my sins!

If anyone is interested/curious in the developments I'd planned (since I'm dropping the story with several plotlines hanging), I'm open to discussing anything by PM. As for me, I'll carry on writing Doctor Who fic and editing my second novel, since reaching this decision about Hearts gave me renewed drive to resume other projects that I _don't _want to give up on. Thank you for your attention and I wish you all the best! &hearts

-Azzie


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